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THE  ARGONAUTS 


^TT,.  OF  CALIF.  LIIRAHY,   h03  MGJjJLJsJS 

THE   ARGONAUTS 


BY 

ELIZA   ORZESZKO 


TRANSLATED   FROM  THE   POLISH    BY 

JEREMIAH   CURTIN 


NEW   YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
1901 


Copyright,  1901,  by 
JEREMIAH    CURTIN 


All  rights  reserved 


TROW  DIRECTORY 

PRINTING  AND  BOOKSINDINQ  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK 


INTRODUCTORY 

Eliza  Orzeszko,  the  authoress  of  "The  Argonauts,"  is 
the  greatest  female  writer  and  thinker  in  the  Slav  world 
at  present.  There  are  keen  and  good  critics,  just  judges 
of  thought  and  style,  who  pronounce  her  the  first  literary 
artist  among  the  women  of  Europe. 

These  critics  are  not  Western  Europeans,  for  Western 
Europe  has  no  means  yet  of  appreciating  this  gifted  woman. 
No  doubt  it  will  have  these  means  after  a  time  in  the  form 
of  adequate  translations.  Meanwhile  I  repeat  that  she  is 
the  greatest  authoress  among  all  the  Slav  peoples.  She 
is  a  person  of  rare  intellectual  distinction,  an  observer  of 
exquisite  perception  in  studying  men  and  women,  and  the 
difficulties  with  which  they  have  to  struggle. 

Who  are  the  Slavs  among  whom  Eliza  Orzeszko  stands 
thus  distinguished? 

The  Slavs  form  a  very  large  majority  of  the  people  in  Aus- 
tria-Hungary, an  immense  majority  in  European  Turkey, 
and  an  overwhelming  majority  in  the  Eussian  Empire; 
they  are  besides  an  unyielding,  though  repressed,  majority 
in  that  part  of  Prussian  territory  known  as  Posen  in  Ger- 
man, and  Poznan  in  Polish. 

The  Slav  race  occupies  an  immense  region  extending 
from  Prussia,  Bohemia,  and  the  Adriatic  eastward  to  the 
Pacific  Ocean.  Its  main  divisions  are  the  Eussians,  Poles, 
Bohemians  (Chehs),  Serbs,  Bulgarians;  its  smaller  divisions 
are  the  Slovaks,  Wends,  Slovinians,  Croats,  Montenegrins. 


2137526 


vi  Introductory 

These  all  have  literature  in  some  form,  literature  which  in 
respect  to  the  world  outside  is  famous,  well  known,  little 
known,  or  unknown. 

The  Slavs  have  behind  them  a  history  dramatic  to  the 
utmost,  varied,  full  of  suffering,  full  also  of  heroism  in 
endurance  or  valor. 

The  present  time  is  momentous  for  all  nations,  the  future 
is  a  tangled  riddle;  for  the  Slavs  this  seems  true  in  a 
double  measure.  To  involved  social  problems  is  added 
race  opposition  in  the  breasts  of  neighbors,  a  deep,  sullen 
historic  hostility.  Hence  when  a  writer  of  power  appears 
among  the  Slavs,  whether  he  takes  up  the  past  or  the 
present,  he  has  that  at  hand  through  which  he  compels 
the  whole  world  to  listen,  Sienkiewicz  has  shown  this,  so 
has  Tolstoy,  so  have  Dostoyevski  and  Gogol. 

The  present  volume  gives  in  translation  a  book  which 
should  be  widely  read  with  much  pleasure.  The  winning 
of  money  on  an  immense  scale  to  the  neglect  of  all  other 
objects,  to  the  neglect  even  of  the  nearest  duties,  is  the 
sin  of  one  Argonaut;  the  utter  neglect  of  money  and  the 
proper  means  of  living  is  the  ruin  of  the  other. 

Darvid  by  "  iron  toil "  laid  the  basis  of  a  splendid  struct- 
ure, but  went  no  farther;  he  had  not  the  time,  he  had 
not  the  power,  perhaps,  to  build  thereon  himself,  and  his 
wife,  to  whom  he  left  the  task,  had  not  .the  character  to  do 
so.  By  neglect  of  duty  Darvid  is  brought  to  madness;  by 
neglect  of  money  Kranitski  is  brought  to  be  a  parasite,  and 
when  he  loses  even  that  position  he  is  supported  by  a  ser- 
vant. 

The  right  use  of  wealth,  the  proper  direction  of  labor, 
these  are  supreme  questions  in  our  time,  and  beyond  all 
in  America. 

Friends  have  advised  Madame  Orzeszko  to  visit  this  coun- 


Introductory  vii 

try  and  study  it;  visit  Chicago,  the  great  business  centre,  the 
most  active  city  on  eartli,  and  New  York,  the  great  money 
capital.  If  she  comes  she  will  see  much  to  rouse  thought. 
What  will  she  see?  That  we  know  how  to  vrin  money  and 
give  proper  use  to  it?  WTiatever  she  sees,  it  will  be  some- 
thing of  value,  that  is  undoubted;  something  that  may  be 
compared  with  European  conditions,  something  to  be  com- 
pared with  the  story  in  this  book. 

Eliza  Orzeszko  Avrites  because  she  cannot  help  writing; 
her  works,  contained  in  forty-odd  volumes,  touch  on  the 
most  vital  subjects  in  the  world  about  her.  She  tells  the 
truth  precisely  as  she  sees  it.  We  may  hope  for  much  yet 
from  the  pen  of  this  lady,  who  is  still  in  the  best  years 
of  her  intellectual  activity. 

Madame  Orzeszko  was  born  a  little  more  than  fifty  years 
ago  in  Lithuania,  that  part  of  the  Commonwealth  which 
produced  Mickiewicz,^  the  great  poet,  and  Kosciuszko^  the 
hero. 

Jekemiah  Curtin. 

Bristol,  Vt.,  U.  S.  A., 
September  12,  1901. 

'  Pronounced  Mitskevitch ;  the  e  as  ai  in  vain. 
'  Pronounced  Kostsushko ;  the  u  as  oo  in  boot. 


THE   ARGONAUTS 


CHAPTER  I 

It  was  the  mansion  of  a  millionaire.  On  the  furniture 
and  the  walls  of  drawing-rooms,  colors  and  gleams  played 
as  on  the  surface  of  a  pearl  shell.  Mirrors  reflected  pictures, 
and  inlaid  floors  shone  like  mirrors.  Here  and  there  dark 
tapestry  and  massive  curtains  seemed  to  decrease  the  effect, 
but  only  at  first  sight,  for,  in  fact,  they  lent  the  whole  in- 
terior a  dignity  which  was  almost  churchlike.  At  some 
points  everything  glistened,  gleamed,  changed  into  azure, 
scarlet,  gold,  bronze,  and  the  various  tints  of  white  peculiar 
to  plaster-of-Paris,  marble,  silk,  porcelain.  In  that  house 
were  products  of  Chinese  and  Japanese  skill;  the  styles  of 
remote  ages  were  there,  and  the  most  exquisite  and  elegant 
among  modern  styles,  lamps,  chandeliers,  candlesticks,  vases, 
ornamental  art  in  its  highest  development.  Withal  much 
taste  and  skill  was  evident,  a  certain  tact  in  placing  things, 
and  a  keenness  in  disposing  them,  which  indicated  infallibly 
the  hand  and  the  mind  of  a  woman  who  was  far  above 
mediocrity. 

The  furnishing  of  this  mansion  must  have  cost  sums 
which  to  the  poor  would  seem  colossal,  and  very  considerable 
even  to  the  wealthy. 

Aloysius  Darvid,  the  owner  of  this  mansion,  had  not  in- 
herited his  millions;  he  had  won  them  with  his  own  iron 
labor,  and  he  toiled  continually  to  increase  them.    His  in- 

1 


The  Argonauts 

dustry,  inventiveness,  and  energy  were  inexhaustible.  To 
him  business  seemed  to  be  what  water  is  to  a  fish:  the  ele- 
ment which  gives  delight  and  freedom.  What  was  his  busi- 
ness? Great  and  complicated  enterprises:  the  erection  of 
public  edifices,  the  purchase,  sale,  and  exchange  of  values 
of  various  descriptions,  exchanges  in  many  markets  and 
corporations.  To  finish  all  this  business  it  was  necessary  to 
possess  qualities  of  the  most  opposite  character:  the  courage 
of  the  lion  and  the  caution  of  the  fox,  the  talons  of  the  fal- 
con and  the  elasticity  of  the  cat.  His  life  was  passed  at  a 
gaming-table,  composed  of  the  whole  surface  of  a  gigantic 
State;  that  life  was  a  species  of  continuous  punting  at  a 
bank  kept  by  blind  chance  rather  frequently;  for  calcula- 
tion and  skill,  which  meant  very  much  in  his  career,  could 
not  eliminate  chance  altogether,  that  power  which  appears 
independently.  Hence,  he  must  not  let  chance  overthrow 
him;  he  might  drop  to  the  earth  before  its  thrusts  and 
contract  a  muscle,  but  only  to  parry,  make  an  elastic  spring, 
and  seize  new  booty.  His  career  was  success  rising  and  fall- 
ing like  a  river,  it  was  also  a  fever,  ceaselessly  bathed  in  cool 
calculation  and  reckoning. 

As  to  the  rest,  post-wagons,  railways,  bells  at  railway  sta- 
tions, urging  to  haste,  glittering  snows  of  the  distant 
North,  mountains  towering  on  the  boundary  between  two 
parts  of  the  world,  rivers  cutting  through  uninhabited 
regions,  horizons  marked  with  the  gloomy  lines  of  Siberian 
forests,  sohtary  since  the  beginning  of  ages.  Then,  as  a 
change:  noise,  glitter,  throngs,  the  brilliancy  of  capitals, 
and  in  those  capitals  a  multitude  of  doors,  some  of  which 
open  with  freedom,  while  others  are  closed  hermetically; 
before  doors  of  the  second  sort  the  pliancy  of  the  cat's  paw 
is  needed;  this  finds  a  hole  where  the  broad  way  is  im- 
possible. 


The  Argonauts 

He  was  forced  to  be  absent  from  bis  family  for  long 
months,  sometimes  for  whole  years,  and  even  when  living 
under  the  same  roof  with  the  members  of  it  he  was  a  rare 
guest,  never  a  real  confiding  companion.  For  permanence, 
intimacy,  tender  feeling  in  relations,  with  even  those  who 
were  nearest  him,  Darvid  had  not  the  time,  just  as  he  had 
not  the  time  to  concentrate  his  thoughts  on  any  subject 
whatever  unless  it  was  connected  with  his  lines,  dates,  and 
figures,  or  with  the  meshes  of  that  net  in  which  he  enclosed 
his  thoughts  and  his  iron  labor. 

As  to  amusements  and  delights  of  life,  they  were  at  inter- 
vals love-affairs,  flashing  up  on  a  sudden,  transient,  fleeting, 
vanishing  with  the  smoke  of  the  locomotive  which  rushed 
forward,  at  times  luxuries  of  the  table  peculiar  to  various 
climates,  or  majestic  scenery  which  forced  itself  on  the  eye 
by  its  grandeur  and  disappeared  quickly,  or  some  hours  of 
animated  card-playing;  but,  above  all,  relations  with  social 
magnates,  who  were  on  the  one  hand  of  use,  and  on  the 
other  an  imm.ensely  great  honor  to  his  vanity.  Money  and 
significance,  these  were  the  two  poles  around  which  all 
Darvid's  thoughts,  desires,  and  feelings  circled;  or,  at  least, 
it  might  seem  all,  for  who  can  be  certain  that  nothing  exists 
in  a  man  save  that  which  is  manifest  in  his  actions?  Surely 
no  one,  not  the  man  himself  even. 

After  three  years'  absence,  Darvid  had  returned  only  a 
few  months  before  to  his  native  city,  and  to  his  own  house, 
where  he  was  as  ever  a  rare  and  inattentive  guest.  He  was 
laboring  again.  In  the  first  week,  on  the  first  day  almost, 
he  discovered  a  new  field;  he  was  very  anxious  to  seize  this 
field,  and  begin  his  Herculean  efforts  on  it.  But  the  seizure 
depended  on  a  certain  very  highly  placed  personage  to 
whom,  up  to  that  time,  he  had  not  been  able  to  gain  ad- 
mittance. 

3 


The  Argonauts 

The  cat's  paw  had  played  about  a  number  of  times  to 
open  a  crevice  in  the  closed  door,  but  in  vain!  He  desired 
a  confidential  talk  of  two  hours,  but  could  not  obtain  it. 
He  turned  then  to  a  method  which  had  given  him  real 
service  frequently. 

He  found  an  individual  who  had  the  art  of  squeezing  into 
all  places,  of  winning  everyone,  of  digging  from  under  the 
earth  circumstances,  relations,  influences.  Individuals  of 
this  kind  are  generally  dubious  in  character,  but  this  con- 
cerned Darvid  in  no  way.  He  considered  that  at  the  bottom 
of  life  dregs  are  found  as  surely  as  slime  is  in  rivers  which 
have  golden  sand.  He  thought  of  life's  dregs  and  smiled 
contemptuously,  but  did  not  hesitate  to  handle  those  dregs, 
and  see  if  there  were  golden  grains  in  them.  He  called 
his  dubious  assistants  hounds,  for  they  tracked  game  in 
thickets  inaccessible  to  the  hunter.  Small,  almost  invisible, 
they  were  still  better  able  than  he  to  contract  muscles, 
creep  up  or  spring  over.  He  had  let  out  such  a  hound  a  few 
days  before  to  gain  the  desired  audience,  and  had  received 
no  news  from  him  thus  far.  This  disturbed  and  annoyed 
Darvid  greatly.  He  would  rush  into  the  new  work  like  a 
lion  into  an  arena,  and  spring  at  fresh  prey. 

The  evening  twilight  came  down  into  the  series  of  great 
and  small  chambers.  Darvid,  in  his  study,  furnished  with 
such  dignified  wealth  that  it  was  almost  severe  in  the  rich 
lamp-light,  received  men  who  came  on  affairs  of  various 
descriptions:  with  reports,  accounts,  requests,  proposals. 

In  that  study  everything  was  dark-colored,  massive,  grand 
in  its  proportions,  of  great  price,  but  not  flashy.  Not  the 
least  object  was  showy  or  fantastic;  nothing  was  visible 
save  dignity  and  comfort.  There  were  books  behind  the 
glass  of  a  splendid  bookcase,  two  great  pictures  on  the  wall, 
a  desk  with  piles  of  papers,  in  the  middle  of  the  room  a 

4 


The  Argonauts 

round  table  covered  with  maps,  pamphlets,  thick  volumes; 
around  the  table,  heavy,  deep  and  low  armchairs.  The 
room  was  spacious  with  a  lofty  ceiling,  from  which  hung 
over  the  round  table  a  splendid  lamp,  burning  brightly. 

Darvid's  remote  prototype,  the  Argonaut  Jason,  must 
have  had  quite  a  different  exterior  when  he  sailed  on  toward 
Colchis  to  find  the  golden  fleece.  Time,  which  changes 
the  methods  of  contest,  changes  the  forms  of  its  knights 
correspondingly.  Jason  trusted  in  the  strength  of  his  arm 
and  his  sword-blade.  Darvid  trusted  in  his  brain  and  his 
nerves  only.  Hence,  in  him,  brain  and  nerves  were  devel- 
oped to  the  prejudice  of  muscles,  creating  a  special  power, 
which  one  had  to  know  in  order  to  recognize  it  in  that 
slender  and  not  lofty  figure,  in  that  face  with  shrunken 
cheeks,  covered  with  skin  M'hich  was  dry,  pale,  and  as  mo- 
bile as  if  quivering  from  every  breeze  which  carried  his 
bark  toward  the  shores  which  he  longed  for.  On  his  cheeks 
shone  narrow  strips  of  whiskers,  almost  bronze-hued;  the 
silky  ends  of  these  fell  on  his  stiff,  low  collar;  ruddy  mus- 
taches, short  and  firm,  darkened  his  pale,  thin  lips,  which 
had  a  smile  in  the  changeableness  of  which  was  great  ex- 
pression; this  smile  encouraged,  discouraged,  attracted,  re- 
pelled, believed,  doubted,  courted  or  jeered — jeered  fre- 
quently. But  the  main  seat  of  power  in  Darvid  seemed  to 
be  his  eyes,  which  rested  long  and  attentively  on  that  which 
he  examined.  These  eyes  had  pupils  of  steel  color,  cold, 
very  deep,  and  with  a  fulness  of  penetrating  light  which 
was  often  sharp,  under  brows  which  were  prominent,  whose 
ruddy  lines  were  drawn  under  a  high  forehead,  increased 
further  by  incipien.  baldness — a  forehead  which  was  smooth 
and  had  the  polish  of  ivory;  between  the  brows  were  nu- 
merous wrinkles,  hke  a  cloud  of  anxiety  and  care.  His  was 
a  cold,  reasoning  face,  energetic,  with  the  stamp  of  thought 

6 


The  Argonauts 

fixed  between  the  brows^  and  lines  of  irony  which  had  made 
the  mouth  drawn. 

A  jurist,  one  of  the  most  renowned  in  that  great  city, 
held  in  his  hand  an  open  volume  of  the  Code,  and  was 
reading  aloud  a  series  of  extracts  from  it.  Darvid  was 
standing  and  listening  attentively,  but  irony  increased  in  his 
smile,  and,  when  the  jurist  stopped  reading,  he  began  in  a 
low  voice.  This  voice  with  its  tones  suppressed,  as  it  were, 
through  caution,  was  one  of  Darvid's  peculiarities. 

"  Pardon  me,  but  what  you  have  read  has  no  relation  to 
the  point  which  concerns  us." 

Taking  the  book  he  turned  over  its  pages  for  a  while  and 
began  then  to  read  from  it.  In  reading  he  used  glasses 
with  horn-rims;  from  these  the  yellowish  pallor  of  his  lean 
face  became  deeper.  The  renowned  jurist  was  confused 
and  astonished. 

"  You  are  right,"  said  he.  "  I  was  mistaken.  You  kno"v^ 
law  famously." 

How  was  he  to  avoid  knowing  it,  since  it  was  his  weapon 
and  safety-valve! 

The  jurist  sat  down  on  one  of  the  broad  and  low  arm- 
chairs in  silence,  and  now  the  architect  unrolled  on  the 
table  the  plan  of  a  public  edifice  to  which  the  last  finish  was 
to  be  given  during  winter  and  before  work  began  in  spring. 

Darvid  listened  again  in  silent  thought,  looking  at  the 
plan  with  his  steel-colored  eyes,  in  which  at  times  there 
fiashed  sparks  of  ideas  coming  from  the  brain — ideas  which, 
after  a  while,  he  presented  to  the  trained  architect.  He 
spoke  in  a  voice  low  and  fluent;  he  spoke  connectedly  and 
very  clearly.  The  architect  answered  with  respect,  and,  like, 
the  jurist  who  had  preceded,  not  without  a  certain  astonish- 
ment. Great  God!  this  man  knows  everything;  he  moves 
as  freely  in  the  fields  of  architecture,  mathematics,  and  law 


The  Argonauts 

as  in  his  own  chamber!  Darvid  noticed  the  astonishment 
of  those  aroimd  him,  and  irony  settled  on  his  thin  Hps.  Did 
those  men  imagine  that  he  could  begin  such  undertakings 
and  be  like  a  blind  man  among  colors?  Some  begin  thus 
but  are  ruined!  He  understood  that  in  our  time  immense 
knowledge  is  the  only  foundation  for  pyramidal  fortunes, 
and  his  memory  alone  knew  the  long  series  of  nights  which 
had  passed  above  his  head  while  it  was  sleepless  in  winning 
knowledge. 

Next  appeared  before  the  table  a  young  man,  lean  and 
slender;  his  dark  eyes  expressed  genius,  his  clothing  was 
threadbare,  his  gestures  almost  vulgar.  This  was  a  sculptor, 
young  but  already  famous.  The  man  had  incipient  con- 
sumption, which  brought  excessive  ruddiness  to  his  face,  a 
glitter  to  his  eyes,  and  a  short,  rasping  cough  from  his  breast. 
He  spoke  of  the  sculptures  which  he  was  to  finish  for  the 
edifices  reared  by  the  great  contractor;  he  showed  the 
drawings  of  them,  and  explained  his  ideas;  he  rose  to  en- 
thusiasm; he  spoke  more  loudly,  and  coughed  at  more  fre- 
quent intervals.  Darvid  raised  his  head;  the  sensitive  skin 
on  his  cheeks  quivered  with  a  delicate  movement;  he 
touched  the  shoulder  of  the  artist  with  the  tips  of  two  white, 
slender  fingers. 

"  Eest,"  said  he;  "  it  hurts  you  to  speak  too  long." 

"  My  younger  daughter  coughs  in  just  this  way,"  re- 
marked he  to  the  other  men  present,  "  and  it  troubles  me 
somewhat." 

"  Perhaps  a  visit  to  Italy,"  said  the  architect. 

"  Yes,  I  have  thought  of  that,  but  the  doctors  note  noth- 
ing dangerous  so  far." 

Then  he  t\irned  to  the  sculptor: 

"  You  ought  to  visit  Italy,  for  its  collections  of  art  and — 
its  climate." 

7 


The  Argonauts 

The  artist,  not  pleased  with  this  interruption,  did  not 
answer  directly,  but  went  on  showing  his  projects  and  ex- 
plaining them;  though  his  short  breath  and  the  cough,  which 
was  repeated  oftener,  made  his  conversation  more  difficult. 
Thereupon  Darvid  straightened  himself. 

"  I  know  very  little  of  art,"  said  he.  "  Not  because  I  de- 
spise it;  on  the  contrary,  I  think  art  a  power,  since  the 
world  does  it  homage,  but  because  I  lack  time.  Trouble 
yourself  no  further  to  exhibit  plans  and  ideas  here.  I  con- 
firm them  beforehand,  knowing  well  what  I  do.  Prince 
Zeno,  whose  good  taste  and  intellect  I  admire,  advised  me 
to  turn  to  you.  At  his  house,  moreover,  I  have  seen  works 
of  your  chisel  which  charmed  me.  Some  declare  that  we 
men  of  finance  and  business  represent  only  matter,  and 
have  no  concern  with  Psyche  (the  soul).  But  I  say  that 
your  Psyche,  now  in  Prince  Zeno's  palace,  produced  on  me 
the  impression  that  I  am  not  matter  only." 

Irony  covered  his  lips,  but  with  increased  amiability  he 
added: 

"  Let  us  fix  the  amount  of  your  honorarium,  permit  me 
to  take  the  initiative,"  said  he,  hurriedly. 

In  a  tone  of  inquiry  he  mentioned  a  sum  which  was  very 
considerable.  The  sculptor  bowed,  unwilling,  or  unable  to 
conceal  his  delight  and  astonishment.  Darvid  touched  him 
lightly  on  the  arm,  and  conducted  him  to  a  great  desk, 
one  drawer  of  which  he  opened.  The  jurist  and  the  archi- 
tect at  the  round  table  exchanged  glances. 

"A  protege  of  the  prince!  "  whispered  one. 

"  Cleverness!  advertising!  "  whispered  the  other. 

"  I  know  from  report,"  said  Darvid,  to  the  young  artist, 
"  that  sculptors  must  spend  considerable  sums  before  they 
begin  a  given  work.  Here  is  an  advance.  Do  not  hesitate. 
Money  should  be  at  the  service  of  talent." 

8 


The  Argonauts 

The  sculptor  was  astonished.  He  had  imagined  the 
milhonaire  as  entirely  different. 

"  Money  should  be  at  the  service  of  talent!  "  repeated  he. 
"I  hear  this  for  the  first  time  from  a  man  having  money! 
Do  you  really  think  so  ?  " 

Darvid  smiled,  but  his  face  clouded  immediately. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  he,  "  I  would  give,  I  think,  much 
money  if  a  cough  like  yours  were  not  in  the  world." 

"  Because  of  your  daughter — "  began  the  sculptor,  but 
Darvid  had  grown  cold  now,  ceremonious,  and  he  turned 
toward  the  round  table. 

At  the  same  moment  a  servant  announced  from  the  door 
a  new  guest. 

"  Pan  Arthur  Kranitski." 

The  guest  entered  immediately  after  the  servant,  and 
passed  the  outgoing  sculptor  in  the  door. 

This  guest  was  a  man  who  carried  his  fifth  decade  of 
years  with  youthful  elasticity  of  movement,  and  with  a 
pleasant,  winning  expression  on  his  still  handsome  face. 
In  general  he  seemed  to  be  clothed  with  remnants  of  great 
manly  beauty,  from  behind  which,  like  soiled  lining 
through  rents  in  a  once  splendid  robe,  appeared,  carefully 
concealed,  old  age,  which  was  premature,  perhaps. 

A  tall  man  with  a  shapely  oval  face,  he  had  dark  whiskers, 
and  the  black  curls  of  his  hair  did  not  cover  successfully  the 
bald  spot  appearing  on  the  back  of  his  head;  his  mustache 
was  curled  upward,  in  the  fashion  of  young  men,  above 
ruddy  lips;  he  passed  through  the  study  with  a  youthful 
step,  and  had  the  express  intention  of  greeting  the  master 
of  the  house  in  a  cordial  and  intimate  manner.  I^ut  in  the 
cold  eyes  of  Darvid  appeared  flashes  well-nigh  threatening; 
he  barely  touched  with  his  finger-tips  the  hand  extended 
by  the  guest — a  hand  really  aristocratic,  white,  slender,  and 
greatly  cared  for. 


The  Argonauts 

"  Pardon,  pardon,  dear  Pan  Aloysius,  that  I  come  at 
this  hour,  just  the  honr  of  thy  important,  immense,  colossal 
occupations!    But  on  receiving  thy  invitation  I  hastened." 

"  Yes,"  said  Darvid,  "  I  need  to  talk  with  you  a  little — 
will  you  wait  a  while?  " 

He  turned  toward  the  two  men  standing  by  the  table, 
who  when  he  greeted  Kranitski  looked  at  him  with  a  curi- 
osity impossible  to  conceal. 

Every  meeting  of  Darvid  with  that  eternal  guest,  that 
offshoot  of  aristocratic  families,  roused  the  curiosity  of 
people.  For  a  good  while  Darvid  did  not  know  this,  but 
at  last  he  discovered  it,  and  now  his  quick  glance  caught 
on  the  lips  of  the  famous  jurist  a  barely  discernible  smile, 
to  meet  which  a  similar  smile  appeared  on  the  lips  of  the 
architect.  He  discoursed  a  few  minutes  more  with  the  two 
men.  When  they  turned  to  go  he  conducted  them  to  the 
door;  when  that  was  closed  he  turned  to  Kranitski  and 
said: 

"  Now  I  am  at  your  service." 

No  one  had  ever  seen  service  so  icy  cold,  and  having  in  it 
the  shade  of  a  restrained  threat.  Kranitski  in  view  of  this 
spent  more  time  than  was  needed  in  placing  his  hat  on  one 
of  the  pieces  of  furniture,  besides  an  expression  of  alarm 
covered  his  face,  now  bent  forward,  and,  in  the  twinkle  of 
an  eye,  the  wrinkling  of  his  forehead  and  the  dropping  of 
his  cheeks,  made  him  look  ten  years  older.  Still  with  grace 
which  was  unconscious,  since  it  had  passed  long  before  into 
habit,  he  turned  to  Darvid. 

"  Thou  hast  written  to  me,  dear  Pan  Aloysius " 

"  I  have  called  you,"  interrupted  Darvid,  "  for  the  pur- 
pose rf  proposing  a  certain  condition,  and  a  change." 

From  a  thick,  long  book  he  cut  out  a  page,  on  which,  pre- 
viously, he  had  written  a  few  words  in  haste,  and  giving  it 

to  Kranitski,  he  said: 

10 


The  Argonauts 

"Here  is  a  bank  cheek  for  a  considerable  sum.  Your 
affairs,  as  I  hear,  are  in  a  very  disagreeable  condition." 

Kranitski's  face  grew  radiant  from  delight,  and  became 
ten  years  younger.  Taking  the  check  presented  to  him  he 
began,  with  a  certain  hesitation: 

"  Dear  Pan  Aloysius,  this  service,  really  friendly,  which 
thou  art  rendering  me,  even  without  request  on  my  part,  is 
truly  magnanimous,  but  be  assured  that  the  moment  income 
from  my  property  increases " 

Darvid  interrupted  him  a  second  time. 

"  We  know  each  other  so  long  that  I  cannot  be  ignorant 
of  what  your  property  is,  and  what  income  you  receive  from 
it.  You  have  no  property.  You  own  a  little  village,  the 
income  from  which  has  never  sufficed  to  satisfy  even  one- 
half  of  your  needs.  In  that  little  village  you  would  have 
passed  your  life  unknown  to  the  great  world  if  your  mother 
had  not  been  a  relative  of  Prince  Zeno,  and  some  other 
coronets  of  nine  quarterings.  But  since  you  had  relation- 
ship so  brilliant  through  your  mother,  high  society  did  not 
suffer  from  the  loss  of  your  presence.  I  know  all  that  re- 
lates to  you,  you  need  not  try  to  lead  me  into  error — I  know 
everything." 

On  the  last  words  he  put  an  emphasis  which  seemed  to 
bring  Kranitski  into  a  profound  confusion,  which  he  could 
not  master. 

"Parole  d'honneur,"  began  he,  "I  do  not  understand 
such  a  real  friendly  service  with  such  a  tone." 

"  You  will  understand  at  once.  This  sum  offered  you  is 
not  a  friendly  service,  but  a  simple  commercial  transaction. 
To  begin  with,  I  insist  that  for  the  future  you  cut  short 
all  relations  with  my  son  Maryan." 

Kranitski  stepped  back  a  number  of  paces. 

"With   Maryan!"  exclaimed  he,  as  if  not  wishing  to 

11 


The  Argonauts 

believe  his  own  ears.  "  I  break  all  relations  with  him!  Is 
it  possible?  Why?  How  can  that  be?  But  you  your- 
self  " 

"  That  is  true,  I  myself  began  this.  I  wished  that  my 
family,  which,  during  my  frequent  absences,  resided  here 
l)ermanently,  should  move  in  that  social  sphere  which  I  con- 
sidered most  desirable,  and  I  asked  you  to  be  the  link  be- 
tween my  family  and  that  sphere " 

"  I  did  what  you  desired,"  interrupted  Kranitski  in  turn, 
and  raising  his  head. 

Darvid,  looking  firmly  into  his  face,  said  in  a  low  voice, 
slowly,  but  the  ice  of  his  tones  seemed  at  moments  to  break 
from  the  boiling  of  passion  confined  beneath  them. 

"  Yes,  but  you,  sir,  have  demoralized  my  son.  Of  him- 
self he  would  never  have  gone  to  such  a  degree  of  corrup- 
tion and  idleness.  You  drew  him  from  study,  you  led  him 
into  all  kinds  of  sport,  you  took  him  to  all  places  of  amuse- 
ment, from  the  highest  to  the  lowest.  On  returning,  after 
three  years'  absence,  I  found  Maryan  withered  morally. 
Luckily  he  is  a  child  yet,  twenty-three  years  of  age,  it  is 
possible  to  save  him.  The  process  of  salvation  I  begin  by 
forbidding  you  to  have  any  further  relations  whatever  with 
my  son." 

Darvid  grew  terrible  during  his  remaining  words.  His 
fingers  were  sinking  into  the  table,  on  which  he  rested  his 
hand.  The  cluster  of  wrinkles  between  his  brows  became 
deeper,  his  eyes  had  the  flash  of  steel  in  them;  he  was  all 
hatred,  anger,  contempt.  But  Kranitski,  who  at  first  lis- 
tened to  him  as  if  unable  to  move  from  astonishment, 
boiled  up  also  with  anger. 

"What  do  you  say?"  cried  he.  "Does  not  my  hearing 
deceive  me?  You  reproach  me!  Me,  who  during  your 
ceaseless  occupations  and  absences  have  been  for  many 

12 


The  Argonauts 

years,  one  may  say,  the  only  guardian  of  your  family,  and 
director  of  your  son.  Well!  Then  do  you  not  remember 
our  former  intimacy,  and  this,  that  it  was  I  who  made  you 
acquainted  with  the  highest  famihes  of  this  city,  and  all 
this  country  ?  Do  you  not  remember  your  confidential  state- 
ments to  me  that  you  wished  to  give  your  daughters  in  mar- 
riage within  those  circles  to  which  my  connections  might  be 
a  convenient  bridge  for  you?  Do  you  not  remember  your 
requests  that  I  should  introduce  Maryan  into  the  best  society, 
and  teach  him  the  manners  prevailing  there?  Very  well! 
You  were  making  your  millions  in  peace,  going  after  them 
to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  Avhile  I  did  everything  that  you 
wished,  and  now  I  meet  with  reproaches,  which,  at  the  very 
least,  are  expressed  without  delicacy — des  reproches,  des 
grossieretes — Mais  ga  n'a  pas  de  nom!  c'est  inou'i!  This 
demands  the  satisfaction  of  honor." 

His  indignation  was  genuine  and  heartfelt;  it  brought 
out  a  deep  flush  on  his  still  shapely  face.  A  stony  amaze- 
ment fell  on  Darvid.  True,  true,  that  man  spoke  the  truth. 
He,  Darvid,  had  used  him  for  his  purposes;  he  had  liked 
the  man,  almost  loved  him;  he  had  given  him  great  con- 
fidence. He  had  not  looked  into  his  character;  he  had  not 
tried  to  know  him,  though  he  had  found  time  to  analyze 
and  know  men  who  took  no  part  in  his  business.  But  the 
fact  in  this  case  was,  that  whatever  had  happened,  had  hap- 
pened with  his  own  will.  From  the  depth  of  his  bosom, 
from  out  their  mysterious  den,  came  a  coil  of  snakes,  and  a 
repulsive  coldness  and  slime  rose  toward  his  throat,  still  he 
reared  his  head. 

"  There  is  much  truth  in  what  you  say;  still  my  decisive 
and  repeated  wish  is  that  you  cease  to  appear  in  my  house.'* 

Kranitski's  forehead  was  flushed  with  blood,  and  the 
words  were  hissing  on  his  lips  when  he  cried: 

13 


The  Argonauts 

"  In  view  of  such  feelings  of  yours  toward  me,  how  am 
I  to  explain  the  service  rendered  just  now?  " 

"  As  pay  for  service  which  you  have  rendered  me,  or  my 
family.    I  pay,  we  are  at  quits,  and  part  forever." 

"  You  are  not  the  only  power  in  this  world!  "  cried 
Kranitski;  "  not  your  will  alone  can  open  or  close  the  doors 
of  this  house  to  me." 

Darvid,  so  pale  that  even  his  thin  lips  did  not  seem  to 
possess  a  drop  of  blood,  took  from  a  letter-case  and  showed 
Kranitski,  between  two  fingers,  a  letter  in  a  small  elegant 
envelope,  bearing  the  address  of  Pani  Malvina  Darvid. 
The  dark  flush  vanished  from  Kranitski  without  a  trace; 
he  became  very  pale  and  rested  his  hand  on  the  arm  of  the 
chair;  his  eyes  opened  widely.  Silence  lasted  some  seconds; 
between  those  two  men  with  faces  as  pale  as  linen  hung 
the  terror  of  a  discovered  secret.  Darvid,  with  a  voice  so 
stifled  that  it  was  barely  audible,  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  How  this  letter  came  into  my  hands  we  need  not  ex- 
plain! Simply  by  chance.  Such  chances  are  very  common, 
and  they  have  in  them  only  this  good,  that  at  times  they 
put  an  end  to  deceit  and — villainy!  " 

Kranitski,  still  very  pale  except  that  red  spots  were  com- 
ing out  on  his  forehead,  looked  very  old  all  at  once;  he 
advanced  some  steps  and  stood  before  Darvid,  the  round 
table  alone  was  between  them.  With  stifled  voice,  but  fix- 
ing his  black,  flashing  eyes  boldly  on  Darvid's  face,  he  said: 

"Deceit!  villainy!  those  words  are  said  easily!  Do  you 
not  know  that  in  early  youth  your  wife  was  almost  my 
betrothed?" 

Darvid's  lips  were  covered  with  irony,  and  he  said: 

"  You  deserted  her  at  command  of  your  mother,  when 
she  sent  you  to  this  capital  in  search  of  the  golden  fleece." 

"  And  when  you  went  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  for  it," 

14 


The  Argonauts 

answered  Kraiiitski,  you  thought  proper  to  place  me  to 
guard  the  woman  whom  I  loved  formerly.  You  considered 
yourself  invincible,  even  when  separated  by  hundreds  or 
thousands  of  miles  from  her " 

"  Let  us  stop  this  ridiculous  discussion,"  said  Darvid. 

*'  As  for  me,"  put  in'  Kranitski,  with  animation,  "  I  will 
finish  it  by  offering  you  any  satisfaction  which  you  may 
demand.    I  await  your  seconds." 

Darvid  laughed  loudly  and  sharply. 

"  A  duel!  Do  you  think  that  the  world  would  not  know 
the  cause  of  it?  Your  former  betrothed  would  appear  in 
the  matter.  For  that  I  should  care  less,  though  I  must  care, 
for  she  bears  my  name,  but  I  have  daughters,  and  I  have 
business " 

He  was  silent  a  while,  then  he  finished: 

"  A  scandal  might  injure  my  business,  and  most  assuredly 
would  injure  the  future  of  my  daughters;  therefore  I  will 
neither  challenge  you  to  a  duel,  nor  will  I  direct  my  servants 
to  thrash  you!  " 

A  trembling  shook  Kranitski  from  head  to  foot,  as  if 
from  the  effects  of  a  blow;  he  straightened  himself,  he  be- 
came manful,  and  crushing  in  his  hand  the  bank  check 
which  he  had  received,  hurled  that  paper  bullet  into  Dar- 
vid's  face  so  directly  that  it  hit  him  at  the  top  of  his  bronze- 
colored  whiskers  and  fell  to  his  feet.  Then  with  elastic 
movement,  and  with  a  grace  which  was  unconscious  and 
uncommon,  he  turned  toward  the  door  and  strode  out. 
Darvid  remained  alone.  In  that  spacious,  lofty  chamber, 
richly  furnished,  in  the  abundant  light  of  a  costly  lamp, 
he  remained  alone.  Clasping  his  inclined  head  with  both 
hands,  he  squeezed  it  with  his  white,  lean  fingers,  as  with 
pincers.  How  many  vexations  and  troubles  had  met  him 
here  after  an  absence  of  years!    There  was  something  greater 

15 


The  Argonauts 

still  than  even  these  vexations  and  troubles.  The  coil  of 
serpents  rose  in  his  breast  and  crawled  up  to  his  very  throat. 
That  was  torture  mixed  with  a  feeling  of  unendurable  dis- 
gust. But  Darvid  avoided  high-sounding  phrases,  and  would 
never  think  or  say:  torture,  disgust.  That  was  a  manner 
of  speaking  for  idlers  and  poets.  He,  a  man  of  iron  indus- 
try, knew  only  the  words  vexation,  trouble.  What  is  he  to 
do  now  with  that  woman?  Throw  her  out  like  a  beast  which, 
bathed  in  milk  and  honey  by  its  owner,  has  bitten  him  to 
the  blood?  Impossible.  His  children,  especially  his  daugh- 
ters, his  business,  his  position,  his  house — scandals  are  harm- 
ful in  every  way.  So  he  must  live  on  under  the  same  roof 
with  her;  meet  the  sight  of  her  face,  her  eyes — those  eyes 
which  on  a  time  were  for  him — yes,  it  cannot  be  otherwise. 
He  must  endure  that  and  master  himself;  master  himself 
mightily,  so  as  not  to  let  things  reach  a  scene,  or  reproaches, 
or  explanation.  Naturally,  no  scenes,  disputes,  or  explana- 
tions. For,  first  of  all,  what  can  they  profit?  Nothing  save 
a  useless  expense  of  energy,  and  he  needs  energy  so  much. 
Besides,  the  very  best  punishment  for  that  woman  is  un- 
broken silence,  which  will  raise  between  her  and  him  an 
impenetrable  wall.  From  words,  even  though  they  be  as 
sharp  as  sword-edges,  some  sound  may  be  got,  some  slight 
hope  of  salvation;  but  silence,  concealing  hidden  knowledge 
of  a  deed,  is  a  coffin  in  which,  from  the  first  hour  of  each 
day  to  the  end  of  it,  that  woman's  pride  will  be  placed  with 
all  that  in  her  may  still  be  human.  Contempt  as  silent  as 
the  grave!  She  will  eat  of  his  millions,  seasoned  with  his 
contempt.  She  will  array  herself  in  his  millions,  interwoven 
with  his  hatred.  Hatred?  Oh,  beyond  doubt  he  hates  her 
with  passion,  and  only  at  times  does  her  name  move  marvel- 
lously through  his  brain  with  such  sounds  as  if  they  were 
the  echo  of  things  very  dear,  things  lost  forever  and  ir- 

16 


The  Argonauts 

replaceable.  Can  it  be?  Is  it  possible  that  she  did  that? 
Malvina,  once  an  ideal  maiden,  and  ten  years  later 
a  woman  so  loving  that  when  he  was  going  on  a  journey 
she  threw  herself  on  her  knees  and  wept,  and  then  besought 
him  not  to  go  from  her!  He  remembers  the  scene  perfectly. 
Her  hair  of  pale  gold,  dropping  then  in  disorder  to  her 
shoulders  and  bosom — her  magnificent  hair,  surrounded  by 
which  the  tears  flowing  down  her  face  glistened  like  dia- 
monds! He  raised  his  head,  straightened  himself.  What 
stupidity!  On  what  sentiment  and  exaltation  is  he  losing 
time  and  energy!  He  needs  them  for  something  else.  He 
needs  to  concentrate  all  his  forces  to  bring  his  new  de- 
signs to  the  desired  culmination.  Why  does  "  that  hound  " 
not  show  himself  and  bring  the  answer  needed?  Ah,  if 
he  could  only  get  one  hour  of  that  conversation,  he  would 
convince;  he  would  capture;  he  would  overcome  rivals,  and 
seize  into  his  own  sole  possession  new  fields  of  industry  and 
speculation!  There  are  hindrances,  intrigues,  dangerous 
rivalries,  he  knows  of  them,  and  these  oppositions  it  is 
precisely  which  attract  him  most  of  all.  Now  especially, 
with  those  vexations  and  troubles,  victory  and  the  new  work 
would  be  as  a  spoonful  of  hashish  to  him,  or  a  glass  of 
strong,  invigorating  wine.  He  must  go  to  the  club.  A 
game  of  cards,  to  which  he  devotes  some  night  hours  fre- 
quently, is  not  specially  pleasant,  but  he  plays  with  persons 
of  high  position  in  society,  or  with  those  who  are  needed 
in  his  business.  He  will  find  perhaps,  also,  that  man  for 
whom  he  has  been  waiting,  vainly,  some  days. 

He  was  extending  his  hand  to  the  button  of  the  electric 
bell  when  from  behind  the  portieres  which  half  hid  the 
door  opening  to  the  interior  of  the  mansion  a  thin  and 
timid  voice  came;  one  could  hardly  tell  whether  it  was  the 
voice  of  a  child  or  a  young  lady: 

17 


The  Argonauts 

"  Is  it  permitted  to  enter?  " 

Darvid  went  to  the  door  hurriedly,  saying,  also  hnrriedly: 

"It  is!    It  is!" 

At  that  moment,  from  the  darkness  which  filled  the  ad- 
joining room,  into  the  abundant  light  of  the  study,  came 
a  maiden  of  fifteen  years,  in  a  bright  dress;  she  was  tall  and 
very  slender,  with  a  small  waist  and  narrow  breast.  An 
immense  wealth  of  pale,  golden  hair  seemed  to  bend  back 
with  its  weight  her  small,  shapely  head  somewhat;  her  oval 
face,  with  its  delicate  features,  had  the  blush  of  spring  on 
it;  her  lips  were  like  cherries,  and  under  the  arches  of  her 
dark  brows  were  large  dark  eyes.  Eight  behind  the  bright 
dress  of  the  girl  came  a  small  shaggy  creature,  a  ball  of  ash- 
colored  silk,  a  little  dog. 

"  Cara! "  cried  Darvid,  "  well,  you  are  here,  little  one! 
How  often  have  I  asked  you  to  come  always  boldly.  How 
do  you  feel  to-day?  You  have  not  coughed  much,  I  think? 
Have  you  taken  your  daily  walk?  With  whom  did  you  go? 
With  Miss  Mary,  or  Irene?  Come,  come,  sit  here  in  this 
armchair." 

He  held  her  small  hand  in  his  and  led  her  toward  the 
table,  which  was  surrounded  with  armchairs.  In  his  move- 
ments there  was  something  polished  and  exquisite,  as  it 
were  delicacy  toward  a  person  who  was  very  dear  and  not 
much  known,  pushed  to  the  degree  where  it  might  be  called 
gallantry.  Joined  with  this  was  a  feeling  of  delight.  She 
was  pleased  and  smiling,  but  she  was  blushing  and  embar- 
rassed. Advancing  with  short  steps  at  his  side,  she  bent 
to  his  hand  every  moment  and  kissed  it.  Her  act  was  full 
of  a  timid  charm,  half  capricious.  They  both  looked  hke 
persons  who  were  greatly  pleased  at  meeting,  but  who  re- 
mained on  a  footing  of  ceremony  with  each  other.  He  re- 
ceived her  in  his  study  as  a  queen;  he  seated  her  in  an  arm- 

18 


The  Argonauts 

chair,  then,  sitting  very  near,  he  held  her  hands  in  his.  Be- 
tween them,  on  the  edge  of  his  mistress's  skirt,  sat  the  dog 
with  the  ash-colored  coat,  in  a  posture  of  disquiet  and  un- 
certainty; it  was  evident  that  he  was  not  accustomed  to 
visit  that  room.  Cara  also,  with  an  expression  of  timid  hap- 
piness on  her  lips  which  were  open,  cast  her  glance  with  a 
smile  on  the  vases  and  the  walls,  uncertain  whether  she  was 
to  speak,  not  knowing  if  she  might  say  something;  she 
bore  herself  very  simply;  her  small  hands  rested  without 
motion  between  her  father's  palms.  At  last  she  said,  in  a 
very  low  voice: 

"  I  was  so  anxious  to  see  you,  father,  dear;  I  wished  so 
much  to  speak  with  you  that  I  have  come." 

"  You  have  done  excellently,  my  little  one.  Why  not 
come  oftener?    Your  coming  gives  me  great  pleasure," 

While  speaking  he  looked  all  the  time  into  her  face, 
which  was  almost  that  of  a  little  child.  She  was  so  like  her 
mother,  that  Malvina's  youth  was  simply  renewed  in  Cara. 
But  Malvina,  w^hen  he  made  her  acquaintance,  was  consider- 
ably older;  the  hair  was  just  the  same,  very  bright,  and  the 
eyes  with  dark  brows  and  pupils,  the  same  shape  of  fore- 
head. With  a  deepening  of  the  wrinkles  between  his  brows 
he  repeated: 

"  Why  not  come  oftener?  " 

"  You  are  always  so  occupied,  father,"  whispered  she. 

"  What  of  that  ?  "  answered  he  hurriedly  and  abruptly. 
"  There  is  reproach  in  your  voice.  Are  my  occupations  a 
crime?  But  labor  is  service,  it  is  the  value  of  a  man.  My 
children  should  esteem  my  labor  more  than  others,  since  I 
toil  for  them  as  much,  or  even  more,  than  for  myself." 

He  did  not  even  think  of  speaking  to  that  child  with 
a  voice  so  abrupt,  and  with  such  a  cloud  on  his  forehead; 
but  that  cloud  came  to  him  from  some  place  within,  from  a 

19 


The  Argonauts 

distant  feeling  of  something  which  he  had  never  looked 
at  directly  before.  But  he  hardly  knew  the  girl!  "When 
he  went  away  the  last  time  she  was  a  child;  now  she  was 
almost  full  grown.  But  she,  in  the  twinkle  of  an  eye, 
slipped  from  the  low  armchair  to  the  carpet,  and  kneeling 
with  clasped  hands  began  to  speak  passionately  and  quickly: 

"  Your  child  is  on  her  knees  before  you,  father.  WTien 
you  were  far  away  she  revered  you,  did  you  homage,  longed 
for  you;  when  you  are  here  she  loves  you  greatly,  above 
everything " 

Here  she  turned  and  removed  from  her  dress  the  ball 
of  ash-colored  silk,  which  was  climbing  to  her  shoulder. 

"  Go  away,  Puffie,  go  away!  I  have  no  time  for  thee 
now." 

She  pushed  away  the  little  dog,  which  sat  on  the  carpet 
some  steps  distant.  Darvid  felt  a  stream  of  pleasant  warmth 
flooding  into  his  breast  from  the  words  of  his  daughter;  but 
on  principle  he  did  not  like  enthusiasm.  In  feelings  and 
the  expression  of  them  he  esteemed  moderation  beyond 
everything.  He  raised  with  both  hands  the  girl's  head, 
which  was  bending  toward  his  knees. 

"  Be  not  excited,  be  not  carried  away.  Repose  is  beauti- 
ful, it  is  indispensable;  without  repose  no  calculation  can 
be  accurate,  no  work  complete.  Your  attachment  makes 
me  happy;  but  compose  yourself,  rise  from  your  knees,  sit 
comfortably." 

She  put  her  hands  together  as  in  prayer. 

"  Let  me  stay  as  I  am,  father,  at  your  knee.  I  imagined 
that  on  your  return  I  should  be  able  to  talk  often  and  long 
with  you;  to  ask  about  everything,  learn  everything  from 
you." 

She  coughed.  Darvid  took  her  in  his  arms,  and,  with- 
out raising  her  from  her  knees,  he  drew  her  to  his  breast. 

20 


The  Argonauts 

"See!  your  cough  lasts!  Do  you  cough  much?  Well, 
do  not  speak,  do  not  speak!  let  it  pass.  Does  this  cough 
pass  quickly?  " 

It  had  passed.  She  stopped  coughing,  laughed.  Her 
teeth  glittered  like  pearls  between  her  red  lips.  A  gleam 
of  delight  shot  through  Darvid's  eyes. 

"  It  has  gone  already!  I  do  not  cough  often,  only  rarely. 
I  am  perfectly  well.  I  was  very  sick  when  I  got  chilled 
at  an  open  window  while  you  were  away,  father." 

"  I  know,  I  know.  Your  enthusiastic  little  head  thought 
of  opening  the  window  on  a  winter  night,  so  as  to  peep  out 
and  see  how  the  garden  looked  covered  with  snow  in  the 
moonlight." 

"The  trees,  father,  the  trees!"  began  she,  smiling  and 
with  vivacity;  "  not  the  whole  garden,  just  the  trees,  which, 
covered  with  snow  and  frost  in  the  moonlight,  were  like 
pillars  of  marble,  alabaster,  crystal,  set  with  diamonds,  hung 
with  laces;  and  whenever  the  slightest  breeze  moved,  a  rain 
of  pearls  was  scattered  on  the  ground." 

"Great  God!"  exclaimed  Darvid,  "marbles,  alabasters, 
laces,  diamonds,  pearls!  But  there  was  nothing  of  all  this 
in  fact!  There  was  nothing  but  dry  trunks,  branches,  snow, 
and  hoar-frost.  That  is  exaltation!  And  you  see  how  de- 
structive it  may  be!  It  brought  you  acute  inflammation  of 
the  lungs,  the  traces  of  which  are  not  gone  yet." 

"  They  are! "  answered  she,  in  passing,  and  then  she 
spoke  seriously.  "  My  father,  is  it  exaltation  to  worship 
something  which  is  very  beautiful,  or  to  love  some  one 
greatly  with  all  our  strengtli?  If  it  is — then  I  am  given 
to  exaltation,  but  without  exaltation  what  could  we  live 
for?  " 

An  expression  of  wonder,  meditation,  thoughtfulness 
filled  her  eyes  and  covered  her  finely  cut  face  with  a  fresh- 

21 


The  Argonauts 

ness  like  that  of  a  wild  rose.  With  a  movement  of  wonder 
she  opened  her  arms,  and  repeated: 

"  What  do  we  live  for?  " 

Darvid  laughed. 

"  I  see  that  your  head  is  turned  a  little^  but  you  are  a 
child  yet,  and  your  trouble  will  pass." 

Stroking  her  pale,  golden  hair,  he  continued: 

"  Homage,  love,  and  like  things  of  the  sensational  sort, 
are  very  nice,  very  beautiful,  but  should  not  occupy  the 
first  place." 

Cara  listened  so  eagerly  that  her  mouth  was  open  some- 
what, and  she  became  motionless  as  a  statue. 

"  But  what  should  stand  in  the  first  place,  father?  " 

Darvid  did  not  answer  at  once.  What?  What  should 
stand  in  the  first  place? 

"  Duty,"  said  he. 

"What  duty,  father?" 

Again  he  was  silent  a  wliile.  What  duty?  Yes,  what  kind 
of  duty? 

"  Naturally  the  duty  of  labor,  hard  labor." 

The  flush  on  Cara's  face  increased;  she  was  all  curiosity, 
all  eagerness  to  hear  her  father's  words. 

"  Labor,  for  what,  father,  dear?  " 

"How?  for  what?" 

"  For  what  purpose  ?  For  what  purpose  ?  because  no  one 
labors  for  the  labor  itself.    For  what  purpose  ?  " 

For  what  purpose?  How  that  child  pushed  him  to  the 
wall  with  her  questions!  With  hesitation  in  his  voice,  he 
answered: 

"  There  are  various  purposes " 

"  But  you,  father,  for  what  are  you  working?  "  continued 
she,  with  eager  curiosity. 

He  knew  very  well  for  what  purpose  he  wished  now  to 

22 


The  Argonauts 

undertake  the  gigantic  labor  of  erecting  a  multitude  of 
buildings  for  the  residence  of  an  array,  but  could  he  ex- 
plain that  to  this  child?  Meanwhile  the  dark  eyes  of  the 
child  were  fastened  on  his  face,  urging  him  to  an  answer. 

"  What  is  it?  "  said  he.  "  I — labor  gives  me  considerable, 
sometimes  immense  profits." 

"  In  money?  "  asked  she. 

"  In  money." 

She  made  a  motion  with  her  head,  signifying  that  she 
knew  that  this  long  time. 

"But  I,"  began  she,  "if  I  wanted  to  work,  should  not 
know  what  to  work  for,  I  should  not  know  for  what  object 
I  could  work." 

He  laughed. 

"  You  will  not  need  to  work;  I  will  work  for  you,  and 
instead  of  you." 

"  Well,  father! "  exclaimed  she,  with  a  resonant  laugh, 
"  what  can  I  do?  To  worship,  to  love,  is  exaltation — duty 
is  labor,  but  if  I  may  not  labor,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  " 

Again  she  opened  her  small  hands  with  astonishment  and 
inquiry;  her  eyes  were  flashing,  her  lips  trembling. 

Darvid,  with  marks  of  disagreeable  feeling  on  his  face, 
reached  for  his  watch. 

"  I  have  no  time,"  said  he;  "I  must  go  to  the  club." 

At  that  moment  the  servant  announced  from  the  ante- 
chamber, through  the  open  door: 

"  Prince  Zeno  Skirgello." 

Delight  burst  forth  on  Darvid's  face.  Cara  sprang  up 
from  her  knees,  and  looking  around,  called: 

"  Puff!    Puff!    Come,  let  us  be  off!   doggy." 

"  Where  is  the  prince  ?  "  asked  Darvid,  hurriedly.  "  Is 
he  here,  or  in  the  carriage  ?  " 

"  In  the  carriage,"  answered  the  servant. 

23 


The  Argonauts 

"  Beg  him  to  come  in,  beg  him  to  come  in! " 

In  the  deHght  which  the  unexpected  arrival  of  the  prince 
caused  him  at  that  time,  he  did  not  notice  the  expression 
of  regret  on  Cara's  face.  Eaising  the  little  dog  from  the 
floor  and  holding  him  in  her  arms,  she  whispered: 

"  This  is  the  third  time,  or  the  fourth — it  is  unknown 
which  time  it  is!  " 

Darvid  sprang  toward  her. 

"  You  may  remain!    You  know  the  prince " 

"  Oh,  no,  father,  I  flee — I  am  not  dressed!  " 

Her  white  robe  with  blue  dots  had  the  shape  of  a  wrap- 
per, and  her  hair  was  somewhat  dishevelled.  With  the  dog 
on  her  arm  she  ran  to  the  door  beyond  which  was  dark- 
ness. 

"Wait!"  cried  Darvid_,  and  he  took  one  of  the  candles 
which  were  burning  on  the  desk  in  tall  candlesticks.  The 
prince  was  coming  up  the  stairs  slowly.  "  I  will  light  you 
through  the  dark  chambers." 

Saying  this  he  walked  with  her  to  the  second  chamber, 
and  when  passing  through  that,  she,  while  going  at  his 
side  with  the  dog  on  her  arm,  and  with  her  short  step,  which 
gave  her  tall  form  the  charm  of  childhood,  repeated: 

"  This  is  the  fourth  time,  perhaps — it  is  unknown  how 
many  times  it  will  be  in  this  way!  " 

"  What  will  be  in  this  way?  " 

"  Just  when  I  begin  to  talk  with  you.  Paf !  something 
hinders! " 

"  What  is  to  be  done?  "  answered  he,  with  a  smile;  "  since 
your  father  is  not  a  hermit,  nor  a  small  person  on  this 
world's  chessboard." 

They  went  hurriedly,  and  passed  through  the  second 
chamber.  The  flame  of  the  candle  which  Darvid  carried 
cast  passing  flashes  on  the  gold  and  polish  of  the  walls,  and 

24 


The  Argonauts 

the  furniture.    These  were  like  tricky  gnomes,  appearing 
and  vanishing  in  the  silence,  darkness,  and  emptiness. 
Darvid  thought: 

"  How  dark  it  is  here,  and  deserted!  " 
Cara  divined  this  thought,  as  it  were,  and  said: 

"  Mamma  and  Ira  are  invited  to  dine  to-day  at " 

She  gave  the  name  of  one  of  the  financial  potentates,  and 
added: 

"  After  dinner  they  will  come  to  dress  for  the  theatre." 
"  And  thou?  "  inquired  Darvid. 

"I?  I  do  not  go  into  society  yet,  and  so  far  the  doctor 
forbids  me  to  go  to  the  theatre.  I  will  read  or  talk  with 
Miss  ]\Iary,  and  amuse  myself  with  Puff." 

She  stroked  with  her  palm  the  silky  head  of  the  Httle 
dog.  Darvid  halted  at  the  door  of  the  third  chamber,  and 
gave  Cara  the  light,  from  the  weight  of  which  her  slight 
arm  bent  somewhat. 

"  Go  on  alone;  I  must  hurry  to  the  prince." 
She  bent  down  to  his  hands,  covered  them  with  hurried, 
ardent  kisses.  With  the  flame  of  the  candle  before  her 
rosy  face,  with  the  dog  at  her  breast,  and  the  pale,  golden 
hair  pushed  back  on  her  shoulders,  she  advanced  in  the 
darkness.  Darvid  returned  through  that  darkness  in  the 
opposite  direction,  and  when  he  had  passed  the  two  spacious 
chambers  hastily,  he  felt  in  the  twinkle  of  an  eye  as  if  from 
behind,  from  that  interior,  some  weight  had  been  placed 
on  his  shoulders.  He  looked  around.  There  was  nothing 
but  vacancy,  obscurity,  and  silence. 

"Stupid!  I  must  have  the  house  hghted!  "  thought 
Darvid,  and  he  hurried  into  the  study,  where,  witli  move- 
ments a  little  too  vivacious,  with  a  fondhng  smile,  and  with 
repeated  declarations  that  he  felt  happy,  he  greeted  the 
prince,  a  man  of  middle  age,  of  agreeable  exterior,  affable 

25 


The  Argonauts 

and  pleasant  in  speech.  "When  they  had  sat  down  in  arm- 
chairS;,  the  prince  declared  the  object  of  his  visit,  which 
was  to  invite  Darvid  to  a  hunt  which  was  to  take  place 
soon  on  one  of  his  estates.  Darvid  accepted  the  invitation 
with  expressions  of  pleasure,  a  little  too  prompt  and  hearty. 
But  he  was  never  so  well  able  to  measure  his  words  and 
movements  in  presence  of  those  high-born  people  as  in 
presence  of  others.  He  felt  this  himself,  still  he  had  not 
the  power  to  refrain.  In  presence  of  them  he  found  him- 
self under  the  influence  of  one  of  his  passions,  and  it  car- 
ried him  too  far.  The  prince  spoke  of  the  sculptor,  whose 
gifts  he  esteemed  highly;  the  young  man  had  gone  directly 
from  Darvid  to  him  and  told  of  all  that  he  had  heard,  and 
what  he  had  experienced. 

"I  was  really  affected  by  your  kindness  toward  this 
youthful  genius,  and  am  delighted  that  he  found  in  you 
a  patron  so  magnanimous." 

Darvid  thought  that  in  every  case  his  arrows  always 
struck  the  mark.  To  that  act  of  his  he  was  surely  indebted 
for  this  unusual  visit  of  the  prince,  and  the  invitation.  With 
a  smile,  in  which  honey  was  overflowing,  he  said: 

"  That  young  man  seems  very  ill.  A  visit  to  more  favor- 
able climates  might  save  him.  I  must  try  that  he  does  not 
reject  the  means  which  I  shall  offer  him  for  that  purpose. 
I  foresee  resistance,  but  I  shall  do  what  I  can  to  overcome  it, 
out  of  regard  for  art,  and  through  good-will  for  a  young 
man.  who,  besides  many  sympathetic  traits,  has  this  on  his 
side,  that  he  rejoices  in  the  exceptional  favor  of  Prince 
Zeno." 

Had  he  been  able,  Darvid  would  have  kissed  himself  for 
that  phrase,  he  felt  so  well  satisfied  with  it;  especially  when 
the  prince  answered  with  animation: 

"  This,  in  the  full  sense  of  the  words,  means  speaking  and 


The  Argonauts 

acting  beautifully!    You  use  the  gifts  of  fortune  in  a  man- 
ner truly  noble." 

"  Not  fortune,  prince,  not  fortune! "  exclaimed  Darvid, 
"  but  iron  labor." 

"  Such  toilers  as  you  are  the  knights  of  the  contemporary 
world,"  answered  the  prince,  with  vivacity;  "the  Du 
Guesclins  and  Cids  of  the  present  century." 

He  rose  and,  while  pressing  the  hand  of  that  Cid,  fixed 
again  in  his  memory  the  date  of  the  hunt,  which  was  not 
distant.  Prince  Zeno  was  an  aristocrat  of  the  purest  blood, 
possessing  a  wide  popularity  which  was  fairly  well  deserved. 
Darvid  was  radiant.  While  accompanying  the  prince  to  the 
door  of  the  antechamber  he  looked  as  if  no  coil  of  serpents 
had  ever  crawled  up  in  his  bosom,  which  was  now  beating 
with  delight  and  with  pride.  The  prince  halted  still  a  mo- 
ment at  the  door,  as  if  to  recall  something. 

"  Pardon  me  an  indiscreet  question,  but  this  interests  me 
immensely.  Is  there  truth  in  the  reports  which  are  circulat- 
ing in  the  city,  that  Baron  Blauendorf  is  to  have  the  honor 
in  the  near  future  of  receiving  the  hand  of  your  elder 
daughter?  " 

The  expression  of  Darvid's  face  changed  quickly,  it  be- 
came sharp  and  severe. 

"  Were  there  any  truth  in  the  report,"  answered  he,  "  I 
should  try  to  destroy  it  together  with  the  report." 

"And  you  would  be  right,  perfectly  right!"  exclaimed 
the  prince.  Then  he  bent  his  lips  almost  to  Darvid's  ear 
and  whispered: 

"  There  is  no  Pactolus  which  such  a  young  buck  as  Baron 
Emil  would  not  drink  up.  He  is  a  genuine  devourer  of 
fortunes.  He  has  swallowed  one  already  and  the  half  of 
another." 

He  laughed  and  added  at  once,  with  immense  affability: 

27 


The  Argonauts 

"  I  see  your  son  frequently — that  worthy  Kranitski  pre- 
sented him  a  year  ago  to  us;  I  and  my  wife  are  very,  very 
thankful.  He  is  sympathetic,  handsome,  and  a  highly  in- 
tellectual young  man,  who  does  you  honor." 

He  went  out.  Darvid  stood  at  the  round  table  sunk  in 
thought,  with  pins  of  irony  in  his  smile  and  his  eyes,  with 
a  cloud  of  wrinkles  between  his  brows.  That  young 
sculptor,  the  favorite  of  Prince  Zeno,  with  clothing  almost 
in  tatters,  brought  consumption  on  himself  unhindered,  till 
a  parvenu  appeared  with  his  money-bag  and  rescued  the 
pocket  of  the  aristocrat,  receiving  in  return  a  visit  and  an 
invitation  to  hunt.  Behold  the  significance  of  money!  Al- 
most infinite  power — ha!  ha!  ha!" 

Internal  laughter  bore  him  away,  and  in  his  brain  sound- 
ed the  word:    "  Wretchedness!    Wretchedness!  " 

What  was  it  specially  that  he  called  wretchedness?  He 
was  not  clearly  conscious  himself  of  this,  but  the  feeling 
of  it  penetrated  him.  Again  he  heard  the  prince  saying 
"  that  honest  Kranitski,"  and  a  wave  of  blood  rushed  to  his 
forehead.  Everything  that  he  had  forgotten  a  moment 
earlier  returned  to  his  mind;  the  prince's  voice  roared  in 
his  ears:  "  That  honest  Kranitski."  He  repeated  a  number 
of  times  to  himself,  in  a  hissing  whisper,  "  honest!  honest!  " 
And  then  he  said: 

"  Wretchedness! " 

That  Baron  Emil,  the  young  buck  capable  of  gulping 
down  many  a  Pactolus!  And  he  was  to  possess  the  hand  of 
his  daughter,  with  a  considerable  part  of  that  fortune  won 
by  iron  labor.  Is  Irene  in  love  with  him?  But  the  baron 
is  a  vibrio  and  a  monkey  all  in  one.  There  is  need  to  think 
over  this  family  matter,  lest  a  misfortune  might  happen.  He 
cast  a  glance  at  the  door  behind  which  was  darkness,  thick, 

28 


The  Argonauts 

silent,  immovable.  It  resembled  a  window  opened  into  a 
great  and  impenetrable  secret. 

"  I  must  have  the  house  lighted  up,"  thought  he.  At 
this  moment  he  heard  the  dull  rumble  of  a  carriage  in  the 
gateway  as  it  entered.  He  pressed  the  button  of  the  electric 
beU. 

"  Is  that  the  lady  who  has  come?  " 

"  Yes,  serene  lord." 

"Tell  the  coachman  to  wait.  He  will  take  me  to  the 
club." 

When  the  servant  opened  the  door  the  rustle  of  silk  came 
in  like  the  sound  of  wind.  Two  long  silken  robes  passed 
over  the  floor  of  the  anteroom  and  farther  on  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  chambers,  which  was  dispelled  by  the  light  of 
the  lamp,  borne  by  the  servant  advancing  in  front  of  them. 

The  glittering  gnomes  called  forth  by  that  light  sprang 
along  the  gildings,  polished  walls,  and  furniture;  ran  out 
of  the  darkness,  ran  into  it  again;  were  lighted  up  and 
quenched  on  the  inclined  heads,  drooping  lids,  and  silent 
lips  of  the  two  women  in  rich  array  and  gloomy. 


29 


CHAPTER  II 

Malvina  Daevid  was  one  of  those  women  to  whom  old 
age  is  very  tardy  in  coming,  and  whose  beauty,  modified  in 
each  season  of  hfe,  never  leaves  them.  For  this  last  she  was 
indebted  less  to  the  features  of  her  face  than  to  the  im- 
mense charm  of  her  movements,  her  smile,  her  expression, 
her  speech.  She  retained  yet  the  same  pale,  golden  hair 
which  she  had  years  earlier,  which  she  arranged  high  above 
her  low  forehead,  calling  to  mind  the  statues  of  Grecian 
women.  In  contrast  with  that  hair,  and  her  slightly  faded 
but  delicate  complexion,  shone,  from  under  dark  brows, 
large  eyes,  also  dark,  with  a  very  mild,  warm  expression, 
now  bright,  now  tempered  by  a  deep  inevitable  cloud  of 
pensiveness.  In  a  robe  covered  with  lace,  in  the  glitter  of 
a  star  of  diamonds  in  the  bright  aureole  of  her  hair,  she 
greeted  the  numerous  acquaintances  who  entered  her  box 
at  the  theatre,  with  the  affability  and  freedom  of  a  perfect 
society  lady.  She  was  even  celebrated  in  that  great  city 
for  the  qualities  which  constitute  so-called  society  person- 
ages, and  which,  in  those  who  knew  her  past,  roused  a  cer- 
tain wonder.  It  was  known  to  all  that  that  past  was  very 
modest.  Darvid  in  his  youth,  which  was  far  less  brilliant 
than  his  present,  married  a  poor  orphan,  a  teacher.  But 
Malvina  Darvid  was  of  those  women  who  need  only  a  golden 
setting  to  sparkle  like  diamonds.  She  shone  in  the  great 
world  with  a  charm,  an  elegance,  a  power  of  speech  which 
were  the  same  as  if  she  had  been  its  own  daughter.    She 

80 


The  Argonauts 

was  radiant  with  satisfaction,  with  serenity,  often  even  with 
joyous  animation,  and  only  now  and  then  did  a  shght  wrin- 
kle, with  a  barely  discernible  line  furrowing  her  Grecian 
forehead,  sink  itself  and  cast  on  her  face  an  expression  of 
weariness,  or  the  corners  of  her  lips,  still  red  and  shapely, 
drop  downward  and  make  that  oval,  white,  delicate  face 
ten  years  older  than  it  seemed  to  be  usually.  But  those 
were  only  short  and  rare  moments,  after  which  Malvina 
Darvid  was  again  entirely  flooded  with  the  brilliancy  of 
her  beautiful  eyes,  her  splendid  toilet,  the  sounds  of  her 
metallic  voice,  warm  and  full  of  sweetness.  She  seemed 
barely  ^a  few  years  older  than  her  elder  daughter.  Some- 
times guests  left  her  box  with  the  words: 

"  She  is  more  beautiful  than  her  daughter." 

And  oftener  still:  '^  She  is  more  charming  and  sym- 
pathetic than  her  daughter." 

Still  nature  had  been  no  stepmother  to  Irene  Darvid; 
but  life,  though  so  short  thus  far,  had  stamped  on  her  ex- 
terior a  mark  which,  while  it  astonished  and  discouraged, 
repelled. 

If  the  younger  sister  seemed  a  living  portrait  of  her 
mother,  the  elder  recalled  her  father,  with  her  high  fore- 
head, thin  lips,  and — a  thing  wonderful  at  such  a  tender 
age — the  mark  of  irony  drawn  over  them.  Her  hair,  too, 
like  her  father's,  changed  with  fiery  gleams  of  gold  and 
bronze,  while  the  pale  complexion  of  her  face,  which  was 
too  long,  was  lighted  by  the  frequent  sharp  glitter  of  her 
eyes,  which,  as  those  of  her  father,  were  not  large,  and  had 
gray  pupils  with  a  cold  glance,  penetrating  and  reasoning. 
Her  shapely  form  was  somewhat  too  slender;  her  posture 
and  movements  too  stiff  and  ceremonious.  She  passed  in 
society  for  a  haughty,  cold,  unapproachable,  original,  and 
even  eccentric  young  lady. 


The  Argonauts 

On  the  stage  was  presented  a  play  which  had  been  pre- 
ceded by  immense  praise;  in  the  theatre  had  collected  all 
that  bore  the  name  of  high  and  fashionable  society  in  the 
city.  The  boxes  were  filled,  except  one,  which  only  just 
before  the  beginning  of  the  second  act  was  opened  with  a 
rattle  and  filled  with  loud,  free,  and  bold  conversation.  It 
was  occupied  by  a  number  of  young  men  of  elegant  dress 
and  manners;  they,  as  it  seemed,  were  connected  by  simi- 
larity in  position,  habits,  and  pleasures.  From  the  higher 
to  the  lower  rows  of  the  theatre  all  eyes  and  glasses  were 
turned  toward  that  box,  with  its  princes,  young  nabobs, 
sons  of  ancient  families,  or  heirs  to  immense  fortunes. 
Through  boxes,  armchairs,  galleries,  passed  names  notorious 
through  deeds  of  originality,  witty  sayings,  astonishing  ex- 
cesses; names  interwoven  with  anecdotes  about  money  and 
love-passages;  the  substance  of  the  love-passages  could  be 
repeated  only  in  whispers,  while  the  amounts  of  money 
were  mentioned  with  eyes  widely  opened  in  amazement. 
Two  among  these  young  men  occupied  public  attention  be- 
yond others  that  winter:  Baron  Emil  Blauendorf,  and 
Maryan  Darvid,  both  of  families  recently,  but  greatly,  en- 
riched. The  Blauendorf  house  was  older  by  some  genera- 
tions, and  had  become  widely  connected;  on  the  other  hand, 
their  fortune  in  possession  of  the  present  descendant  was 
vanishing  quickly;  in  comparison  with  the  entirely  new 
edifice  of  the  Darvids,  it  seemed  a  ruin.  On  these  two  gen- 
eral attention  was  concentrated  with  the  greatest  curiosity; 
for  during  that  winter  and  the  preceding  one  the  most 
numerous  aneedotes  touching  them  were  in  circulation 
among  those  who  frequented  that  theatre.  They  were  so 
young,  and  still  so  noted!  But  Baron  Emil  was  consider- 
ably older  than  Maryan;  he  was  thirty  and  little  fa- 
vored in  looks.     Small,  weakly,  with  red,  closely-cut  hair, 

32 


The  Areonauts 


fc>' 


with  features  which  were  too  small,  and  injured  by  a 
faded  complexion,  with  small  eyes,  which,  because  of 
nearsightedness,  were  either  covered  with  eyeglasses,  or 
blinked  at  the  light  from  behind  yellow  lids,  which 
gave  them  an  expression  of  pride  and  weariness.  An 
unshapely  exterior,  unimposing,  slight,  bent,  sickly.  But 
through  those  small,  yellowish,  thin  hands  had  passed  al- 
ready the  fortune  of  the  old  baron,  who  was  dead  some 
years,  and  now  a  second  fortune  was  passing  through  them — 
a  fortune  left  scarcely  a  year  before  to  her  son  by  the  baron- 
ess, who  was  famous  for  her  idolatrous  love  of  him.  People 
looked,  and  wondered  how  such  a  great  river  of  gold  could 
flow  through  a  creature  so  small  and  insignificant.  With 
Maryan  it  was  different.  He  astonished  also,  but  he  roused 
general  sympathy.  Such  a  child!  And  such  a  perfectly 
beautiful  fellow  at  the  same  time!  He  was  not  twenty- 
three  years  of  age  yet;  of  fine  stature;  his  manners  were 
elegant  and  pleasing;  he  had  the  head  of  a  cherub,  with 
bright  curling  locks;  a  noble  fresh  face  from  which  gazed 
eyes  as  blue  as  turquoise;  and  wise,  too  wise,  perhaps,  in 
so  youthful  a  countenance,  for  these  eyes  seemed  not  to 
confide  but  to  jeer,  or  to  be  wearied  and  seeking  some- 
thing through  the  world  without  finding  it.  Women  whis- 
pered into  one  another's  ears  that  that  lad,  when  in  Eng- 
land, had  joined  the  Salvation  Army;  but  after  he  had  re- 
mained a  short  time  in  its  ranks,  he  became,  in  Paris,  a 
member  of  the  Hashish  Club,  and  brought  away  the  habit 
of  using  narcotics  to  rouse  dreams  in  himself  and  unusual 
conditions.  If  the  city  at  that  moment  had  temporary 
possession  of  Bianca  Bianetti  it  was  thanks  to  that  lad,  who, 
in  a  remote  land,  had  won  the  heart  of  the  singer.  Some 
insisted  that  he  had  spent  fabulous  sums  on  her;  others 
contradicted,  declaring  that  not  Bianca,  the  singer,  had  con- 

33 


The  Argonauts 

sumed  them,  but  Aurora,  that  noted  Amazon  of  the  circus, 
for  whose  favor  princes  of  blood  royal  had  striven  in  various 
capitals.  That  shapely  little  nabob  had  come,  seen,  and  con- 
quered; and  when  he  had  got  his  prize  at  an  incredible 
outlay,  he  threw  it  aside  and  brought  home  Bianca.  But 
is  that  all  that  may  be  told  of  him?  He  and  Baron  Emil 
are  fountains  of  histories  of  this  sort.  The  baron  is  con- 
siderably older,  but  this  lad  has  a  father.  That  father  him- 
self is  a  source  of  unbounded  credit.  Young  Darvid  has 
as  many  debts  as  there  are  golden  curls  on  that  cherub 
head  of  his.  What  will  his  papa  say?  What?  Not  long 
since  that  papa  returned  from  the  ends  of  the  earth,  after 
a  long  absence;  will  he  put  an  end  to  the  tricks  of  the 
boy?  will  he  be  able  to  do  so?  The  white  forehead  of 
the  youth  has  an  expression  of  maturity,  and  at  times 
of  something  else — namely,  weariness — and  in  his  blue 
eyes  gleams  of  firmness,  resolve,  and  contempt.  He  looks 
as  if  he  despised  the  whole  world  then.  He  and  the  baron 
occupy  themselves  much  with  art  and  literature.  They 
expend  almost  as  much  on  art  as  on  women  and  joyous 
suppers.  They  are  highly  cultured.  The  baron  plays  like 
an  artist;  Maryan  translates  poetry  into  various  languages. 
In  the  box  were  a  number  of  others  resembling  these  two, 
but  the  others  had  places  elsewhere  in  the  theatre:  they 
had  come  for  a  brief  time  and  left  the  box  afterward,  then 
there  remained  only  the  baron  and  young  Darvid.  Behind 
their  chairs  sat  some  third  man,  very  quietly,  as  if  to  at- 
tract the  least  attention  possible.  This  was  Pan  Arthur 
Kranitski.  People  were  accustomed  to  see  him  here  and 
elsewhere  with  these  two  young  men,  and  with  others  also, 
but  with  these  two  most  frequently;  his  hair  curled,  fresh- 
ened; his  black  mustache,  pointed  at  the  ends  above  his  red 
lips,  in  the  fashion  of  young  men.    But  to-day  he  looks  con- 

34 


The  Argonauts 

siderably  more  retiring  and  older  than  usual.  With  much 
bold  conversation,  with  laughter  which  cast  his  head  back, 
with  movements  full  of  grace  and  animation,  he  generally 
strove  to  equal,  and  did  equal,  those  two  young  nabobs, 
whose  Mentor  he  seemed  to  be,  and  at  the  same  time  their 
comrade  and  continual  guest,  as  well  as  their  gracious  pro- 
tector. This  time  he  was  weighed  down  and  gloomy,  with 
spots  on  his  aged  forehead.  He  was  sitting  in  a  corner  of 
the  box,  turning  his  attention  neither  to  the  play  nor  the 
audience;  and,  what  was  more,  not  striving  to  attract  the 
attention  of  anyone.  But  from  behind  the  shoulders  of  the 
young  men  in  the  front  of  the  box,  his  hand,  as  if  directed 
by  an  irresistible  impulse,  turned  the  opera-glass,  from  mo- 
ment to  moment,  toward  Malvina  Darvid.  He  felt  that 
he  ought  not  to  look  so  persistently  at  that  woman  with 
the  gleaming  star  above  her  forehead,  so  he  dropped  his 
hand  to  raise  it  again  and  turn  it  in  the  same  direction. 
As  if  imitating  Kranitski,  though  really  he  did  not  even 
think  of  his  existence.  Baron  Emil  was  acting  in  the  same 
way  with  reference  to  Irene,  gazing  through  his  opera-glass 
at  her  face,  which  showed  indifference  and  even  weariness. 
He  did  this  with  a  perfect  disregard  for  the  rest  of  the 
audience,  and  beginning  at  the  second  act,  with  an  inso- 
lence which  might  have  confused  or  angered  another 
woman.  But  Irene,  indifferent  for  some  time,  raised  her 
glass  also,  and  turned  it  on  the  baron.  With  these  glasses 
the  two  people  brought  their  faces  near  each  other;  they 
looked  each  other  straight  in  the  eyes,  separated  themselves 
from  the  audience,  and  gazed  from  the  height  of  their  two 
boxes  in  full  disregard  of  everything  happening  around 
them.  These  two  opera-glasses,  planted  in  permanent  op- 
position, attract  the  attention  of  all;  but  Irene  and  the 
baron  do  not  heed  that,  do  not  care  to  know  anything  what- 

85 


The  Argonauts 

ever  about  the  audience,  or  the  love  scenes  and  tragedy  rep- 
resented in  that  theatre.  They  gaze  long  at  each  other 
with  such  indifference  that  one  miglit  ask,  Why  do  they  do 
that?  Perliaps  because  it  is  original,  perhaps  to  rouse 
the  curiosity  or  the  censure  of  the  audience.  But,  after 
a  long  time,  there  appeared  on  their  faces  a  jeering,  self- 
willed  smile,  with  a  tinge  of  friendly  comradeship,  mixed 
in  the  baron's  case  with  a  passing  gleam  of  the  eyes; 
and  in  Irene's  a  pale  flush,  which  covered  her  lofty  forehead 
for  a  moment  and  then  vanished.  Dropping  his  hand  with 
the  opera-glass  the  baron  turned  to  Maryan: 

"  Tres  garQonnicre  ta  soeur!  "  said  he.  "  She  is  bold  and 
looks  down  on  every  thing;  she  is  disenchanted.  Une 
desabusee!  Very  interesting,  and  grows  more  and  more 
so." 

"  Does  she  rouse  a  new  shiver  in  you?  "  laughed  Maryan. 

"  Yes,  an  entirely  new  shiver.  That  is  a  type  of  woman 
which  is  barely  beginning.  Twenty  years  old,  and  a  per- 
fectly distinct  individuality!  Twenty  years  old,  and 
knows  painted  pots  thoroughly !  " 

"  That  is  a  family  trait  with  us,"  retorted  Maryan. 

"  Your  mother,"  continued  the  baron,  "  has  undying 
beauty.  Such  splendid  hair  and  eyes!  But  hers  is  another 
type  entirely." 

"  A  past  one,"  put  in  Maryan. 

"  Yes,  that  is  true,  a  past  type,  a  simple  one.  But 
Panna  Irene  is  new  and  intricate;  yes,  that  is  the  word, 
intricate!  We  are  all  intricate  now,  full  of  contrasts, 
dissonances,  and  vexations." 

In  the  theatre  a  thunder  of  applause  was  heard.  The 
two  young  men  looked  at  each  other  and  laughed  almost 
loudly. 

"What  are  they  playing?"  asked  the  baron,  indicating 

86 


The  Argonauts 

the  stage  with  his  head.  "  Ma  foi !  I  have  not  heard  one 
word." 

"•  Well  old  man,"  said  Maryan,  turning  to  Kranitski, 
"  what  are  they  doing  on  the  stage  ?  " 

Kranitski  dropped  his  hand  with  the  opera-glass  quickly 
and  blurted  out: 

"  What  is  the  question,  Maryan?  " 

His  eyes,  which  were  fine  yet  in  their  prolonged  lids, 
were  glazed  with  a  tear. 

"  Ho,  ho !  romantic,  there  is  a  tear  in  your  eye.  The 
subject  must  be  affecting!    Let  us  listen! " 

They  began  to  listen,  but  quite  differently  from  others. 
When  passions  exhibited  on  the  stage  quickened  the  beating 
of  all  hearts,  or  poetry,  pulsating  in  lofty  words,  brightened 
faces  with  enthusiasm,  Maryan  and  the  baron  laughed 
inattentively  and  with  contempt;  when  stupidity,  selfish- 
ness, or  wit  called  out  laughter,  or  ridicule,  they  were 
immovable  in  cold  importance,  puffed  up  and  insolent; 
when  the  curtain  came  down  at  the  end,  and  a  deafen- 
ing, prolonged  thunder  of  applause  was  heard,  their 
hands  rested  ostentatiously  on  the  edge  of  the  box.  This 
opposition  to  the  impressions  and  opinions  of  the  audi- 
ence might  seem  a  childish  wish  for  distinction;  but  one 
could  feel  besides  in  it,  a  bold  throwing  down  of  the 
gauntlet  to  common  taste,  and  an  estimate  of  the  various 
elements  and  values  in  life  directly  in  conflict  with  that 
of  others. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  last  act  Kranitski  entered  Malvina 
Darvid's  box,  and  saluting  each  woman  silently  he  stood 
motionless.  Malvina  bowed  toward  him  slightly,  then  a 
shadow  came  out  on  her  face;  this  shadow  seemed  to  have 
torn  itself  from  an  internal  cloud.  She  frowned — a  deep 
wrinkle  appeared  on  her  forehead,  the  corners  of  her  mouth 

37 


The  Argonauts 

drooped  somewhat,  and  lier  face,  with  that  brilliant  star  in 
the  aureole  of  bright  hair  above,  had  an  expression  of  pain 
when  seen  on  the  drapery  of  the  box  as  a  background. 

But  that  did  not  last  long.  The  box  was  filled  with  an 
assembly  of  brilliant  and  agreeable  men,  one  of  whom,  with 
his  gray  hair  and  bearing  of  an  official,  made  a  low  obeisance 
before  the  wife  of  Darvid,  and  seemed  to  lay  at  her  feet 
smiles  full  of  homage.  Hence  she  grew  affable,  pleasant, 
vivacious,  elegant  in  gestures,  and  in  the  modulation  of  her 
beautiful  voice,  she  answered  politeness  with  politeness,  re- 
quests with  promises,  and  gave  opinions  in  return  for  ques- 
tions touching  the  piece  just  played. 

Baron  Emil  meanwhile  approached  Irene  and,  indicat- 
ing the  excited  audience  with  his  eyes,  inquired: 

"  How  do  those  shouting  Arcadians  please  you  ?  " 

Taking  on  her  shoulders  the  wrap  which  he  held  for 
her,  she  answered: 

"  They  are  happy!  " 

"Why?" 

"  Because  they  are  naive!  " 

"You  have  described  the  position  famously!"  cried  he, 
with   enthusiasm.     "  Only   Arcadians   could  be   so   hap- 

py — " 

"  As  to  believe  in  those  painted  pots " 

"  As  their  great-grandfathers  did,"  added  he. 

"  Who  knows,"  said  she,  as  it  were,  with  deep  thought, 
"whether  the  great-grandfathers  really  believed  in  them, 
or  only " 

"Pretended  belief!  Ha!  ha!  ha!  Beyond  price!  ex- 
cellent! How  you  and  I  converse,  do  we  not?  This  is 
harmony!  " 

"  Not  without  dissonance." 

"  Yes,  yes,  not  without  vexation.    But  that  is  nothing. 

That  even  rouses " 

38 


The  Argonauts 

During  this  interchange  of  opinions,  which  was  like  the 
ghtter  of  cold  and  sharp  steel,  Kranitski,  in  the  crowd  which 
surrounded  Malvina,  was  able  to  whisper  to  her: 

"  To-morrow  at  eleven." 

Without  looking  at  him,  and  with  a  quiver  of  her  brows, 
which  drooped  a  little,  she  answered: 

"  It  is  too  early." 

"  Absolutely  necessary.  A  catastrophe!  A  misfortune! " 
whispered  he  in  addition. 

She  raised  to  him  a  glance  which  showed  that  she  was 
tortured  to  her  inmost  soul  by  fear,  but  at  the  same 
moment  Maryan  gave  her  his  arm,  and  said: 

"  To  be  original,  to  edify  the  Arcadians,  and  to  give 
myself  pleasure,  I  shall  be  to-day  a  virtuous  son,  con- 
ducting his  own  beautiful  mamma  downstairs !  " 

Adroit,  with  almost  childish  delight  in  his  blue  eyes,  but 
with  a  sarcastic  smile  which  seemed  to  have  grown  to  his 
lips,  which  were  shaded  by  a  minute  mustache,  this  youth 
led  through  the  theatre  corridor  that  woman  not  young, 
but  whose  beautiful  and  original  head,  and  whose  rich  toilet 
drew  all  eyes  to  her. 

"  I  am  proud  of  you,  dear  mamma.  To-day  I  have  heard 
whole  odes  sung  in  your  honor;  even  Emil  declares  that 
you  are  eclipsing  Irene  with  your  beauty." 

She  was  smiling  and  also  angry.  Her  dark  gleaming 
eyes  rose  with  love  to  the  shapely  face  of  her  son,  but,  striv- 
ing to  be  dignified,  she  said: 

"  Maryan,  you  know  that  I  am  displeased  at  hearing 
you  talk  to  me  in  such  a  tone." 

He  laughed  loudly. 

"  Then,  my  dear  mamma,  you  should  grow  old  as 
quickly  as  possible,  put  on  a  cap,  and  sit  in  a  jacket  at 
the  fireplace.    I  should  bo  filled  then  with  timid  respect, 

39 


The  Argonauts 

and  would  hurry  away  with  all  speed  from  such  an  an- 
noying mamma ! " 

"But  since  I  am  not  annoying  you  will  be  good  and 
come  home  with  us.     We  shall  drink  tea  together." 

"  Au  desespoir,  cJiere  maman!  But  that  cannot  be.  The 
rest  of  this  day,  or  night,  I  have  promised  to  friends." 

"  Is  to-day  the  only  time  promised  ?  "  asked  she,  with 
a  shade  of  sadness. 

"  For  the  true  sage  to-morrow  and  yesterday  have  no 
existence,"  answered  Maryan, 

They  were  at  the  open  door  of  the  carriage;  Maryan  bent 
and  kissed  his  mother's  hand. 

"  Be  not  angry,  mamma  dear !  But  you  are  never  angry. 
If  there  is  anything  on  earth  that  I  worship  yet  it  is  your 
marvellous  sweetness  of  temper." 

"  It  is  excessive,"  answered  Malvina.  "  If  I  only  knew 
how  to  dominate " 

He  interrupted  her,  with  a  laugh: 

" I  should  avoid  you  in  that  case;  but  now,  all  relations 
between  us  are  excellent,  though  they  are  constitutional 
or  even  republican." 

"I  go  for  anarchy!"  put  in  Baron  Emil,  helping  Irene 
to  a  seat  in  the  carriage. 

He  spoke  somewhat  through  his  nose  and  teeth,  it  was 
difficult  to  say  whether  by  nature  or  habit,  but  that  gave  to 
his  speech  a  character  of  contemptuousness  and  indolence. 

"But  of  dissonances  to-morrow  rCest  ce  pasf  asked  he. 

"  And  of  vexations! "  concluded  Irene  with  a  smile, 
wherewith  her  hand  remained  on  the  baron's  palm  a  few 
seconds  longer  than  was  necessary. 

Soon  after,  Malvina  Darvid  was  sitting  at  a  small  table 
covered  with  a  tea  service,  in  a  study  which  was  like  the 
lined  and  gilded  interior  of  a  costly  confectionery  box. 

40 


The  Argonauts 

Massive  silver  artistically  finished,  expensive  porcelain,  ex- 
quisite tid-bits,  enticing  the  eye  by  their  ornamentation, 
and  the  taste  by  the  odor  from  them,  tempered,  however, 
by  the  strong  fragrance  of  hyacinths,  syringa,  and  vio- 
lets which  were  blooming  at  the  window  and  the  walls, 
and  on  large  and  small  tables  everywhere. 

The  dress  worn  at  the  theatre  was  replaced  now  by  a 
wrapper,  composed  of  lace  and  material  soft  as  down.  Her 
posture  in  the  low  and  deep  armchair,  the  very  manner 
even  in  which  she  arranged  the  folds  of  her  robe  seemed 
to  exhale  the  luxury  of  rest;  but  her  mind  was  at  work,  and 
filled  her  eyes  with  an  expression  of  disquiet. 

"'Catastrophe!  Misfortune!'  What  could  that  be?" 
Marks  of  pain  had  begun  to  wind  around  her  mouth ;  her 
hands  were  firmly  clasped  on  her  knees.  "  It  may  be 
that  lost  letter?  A  man  must  have  a  head  filled  with 
exaltation,  and  a  character  as  weak  as  Kranitski's  to  write 
such  a  letter.  It  may  be — it  is  even  sure  to  be  so,  for 
during  a  number  of  days  she  has  felt  in  the  air  a  catas- 
trophe. But  if?— Well!  Is  that  a  misfortune?  Oh, 
rather  the  opposite  ? "  The  supposition  that  the  dark, 
grievous  truth  of  her  life  might  be  discovered  by  him 
who  would  seek  vengeance  because  of  it  roused  no  fear 
in  her;  it  caused  her  to  hope  for  a  thing  disagreeable 
and  yet  desired.  Let  that  horrid  knot  in  which  her  life 
was  involved  be  untied  or  torn  apart  sometime,  in  any 
way  whatever.  Alone  she  would  never  have  strength  to 
untie  or  to  cut  it,  she  is  such  an  eternally  weak,  weak, 
weak  creature !  And  still  anything  would  be  better  than 
the  present  condition. 

Two  glittering  tears  rolled  slowly  down  her  cheeks;  above 
the  drooping  eyelids  a  deep  wrinkle  cut  a  dark  line  across 
her  forehead.     The  diamond  star  flashing  rain1)ow  gleams 

41 


The  Argonauts 

from  her  hair,  and  the  flowers,  which  dotted  the  room 
thickly  with  their  pale  colors,  gave  a  background  of  wealth 
to  that  woman's  life  tragedy. 

With  a  teacup  in  her  hand  Irene  stood  in  the  opposite 
door  and  looked  at  her  mother  uneasily,  keenly,  with  such 
attention  that  her  eyelids  blinked  repeatedly.  Far  from 
her  now  were  those  dry  and  sneering  smiles  in  conversation 
with  the  baron.  But  she  passed  through  the  room  calmly 
and  sat  in  front  of  her  mother. 

"  It  seems  that  the  play  of  to-night  did  not  amuse  you 
much,  mamma." 

She  looked  into  the  teacup  so  steadily  that  she  could  not 
see  her  mother's  tears  or  expression  of  face.  But  that  face 
grew  bright  on.  a  sudden  and  was  covered  with  an  unre- 
strained smile. 

"  Is  Cara  sleeping?  "  inquired  she. 

"  Of  course ;  her  room  is  quite  silent,  and  so  is  Miss 
Mary's.    Why  do  you  not  drink  tea,  mamma?  " 

Malvina  raised  the  spoon  slowly  to  her  lips,  and  Irene 
began  to  speak  calmly: 

"I  heard  very  unexpected  news  to-day.  It  seems  that 
father  has  told  Prince  Zeno,  who  inquired  about  the  matter, 
that  he  will  not  consent  to  my  marriage  with  Baron  Blauen- 
dorf." 

"Why  call  that  news  unexpected?"  asked  Malvina, 
looking  at  her  daughter. 

Irene  shrugged  her  shoulders  slowly. 

"  I  did  not  suppose  that  father  would  devote  his  precious 
time  to  things  so  trivial.  This  is  unexpected  and  may  bring 
trouble." 

"What  trouble?"  inquired  Malvina,  with  alarm. 

"  Father's  opinions  and  mine  may  be  in  opposition." 

"  In  tbat  case  your  opinion  will  yield." 

42 


The  Argonauts 

"  I  doubt  that.  I  have  my  plans,  ray  needs,  my  tastes; 
of  these  father  can  know  nothing." 

They  were  silent  rather  long;  during  this  time  Malvina 
raised  her  eyes  to  her  daughter  repeatedly,  with  the  intent 
to  say  something,  but  she  was  unable,  or  at  least  she  hesi- 
tated.   At  last  she  inquired  in  irresolute,  almost  timid,  tones: 

"  Irene,  do  you  love  him?  " 

"  Do  I  love  the  baron  ?  " 

These  words  coming  from  the  lips  of  the  young  girl  ex- 
pressed immense  astonishment. 

"  If  Baron  Emil  should  hear  that  question  he  would  be 
the  first  to  call  it  Arcadian  or  great-grandfatherly." 
And  she  laughed.  "  That  is  one  of  those  things  which 
do  not  exist,  or  which,  at  least,  are  changeable,  temporary, 
dependent  on  the  state  of  the  nerves  and  the  imagination. 
I  have  a  cool  imagination  and  calm  nerves.  I  can  do  with- 
out painted  pots." 

As  these  words  came  slowly  and  coldly  from  the  lips  of 
her  daughter,  Malvina  straightened  herself,  and  her  face 
was  covered  with  a  faint  blush.  She  had  preserved  the 
rare,  and  at  her  age  even  wonderful,  faculty  of  blushing. 

"Ira!"  cried  she,  "I  hear  these  opinions  not  for  the 
first  time,  and  they  give  me  such  pain!  " 

She  clasped  her  hands. 

"  Love,  sympathy,  when  a  choice  is  made " 

The  voice  broke  in  her  throat  all  at  once.  Her  eyelids 
drooped;  her  shoulders  fell  back  on  the  chair;  she  was 
silent. 

Irene  laughed  and  made  a  gesture  of  despair  with  her 
hands. 

"What  can  I  do  with  the  situation?"  began  she  in  a 
jesting  tone.  "  It  was  not  I  who  made  this  world,  and  I 
cannot  reconstruct  it.    I  miglit  like  to  do  so,  perhaps,  but 

43 


The  Argonauts 

I  cannot."  Then  she  grew  serious,  and  continued:  "  Love 
and  sympathy  may  be  very  charming.  I  admit  even  that 
most  assuredly  they  are  when  they  exist;  but  usually  if 
they  exist  it  is  for  a  short  period,  they  flash  up  and 
quench — a  few  years,  a  few  days,  most  frequently  only 
days,  and  they  pass — they  are  as  if  they  had  never  been. 
Why  illusions,  when  after  them  disenchantment  must 
come  ?  They  merely  cause  useless  exertion  in  life,  dis- 
appointment, and  suffering." 

Irene's  words  and  sententious,  hard  tones  were  in  marvel- 
lous contrast  Avith  the  maiden-roundness  of  her  arms, 
which  were  bare  in  the  broad  sleeves  of  her  dressing- 
gown,  with  the  fresh  red  of  her  delicate  lips,  and  the 
gleam  of  her  blue  eyes. 

"  Besides,"  added  she,  "  I  feel  a  sympathy  for  the  baron; 
a  certain  kind  of  sympathy." 

Malvina,  after  a  moment's  silence,  asked  in  a  low  voice: 

"  What  kind  of  sympathy  is  it  ?  " 

After  a  little  hesitation  Irene  answered  with  a  harsh, 
abrupt  laugh: 

"  What  kind  of  sympathy?  A  kind  very  common,  it 
seems  known  universally.  Sometimes  his  way  of  looking 
at  me,  or  his  pressure  of  the  hand,  moves  me.  But  he 
pleases  me  most  by  his  sincerity;  he  makes  no  pretence. 
He  has  never  told  me,  like  those  three  or  four  other 
suitors  of  mine,  that  he  loves  me.  He  has  for  me,  as  I 
have  for  him,  a  certain  kind  of  sympathy;  he  considers 
me  financially  an  excellent  match,  and  for  these  two  rea- 
sons he  wishes  to  share  with  me  his  title  of  baron,  and 
his  relationship  with  certain  families  of  counts  and 
princes.  And  as  I,  on  my  part,  need  independence  at  the 
earliest,  and  my  own  house,  so  one  thing  for  another,  the 
exchange  of  services  and  interests  is  accomplished.     We 

U 


The  Argonauts 

do  not  hide  from  each  other  these  motives  of  ours,  and 
this  creates  between  us  sincere  and  comradelike  relations, 
quite  agreeable,  and  leading  to  no  tirades  or  elegies  in 
which  there  is  not  one  bit  of  truth,  or  to  any  exaltation 
or  despair  which  has  no  title  to  the  future.     This  is  all." 

"  Ira!  "  whispered  Malvina  after  a  long  silence. 

"  What,  mamma  ?  " 

"  If  I  could — if  I  had  the  right "    Both  were  silent. 

"  What,  mamma  ?  " 

"  If  I  could  believe  in  spite  of " 

The  gilded  and  artistic  clock  ticked  among  the  pinks  and 
lilies:  tick-tack,  tick-tack. 

"What  is  it,  mamma?" 

"  A  cake,  Ira!  " 

As  Irene  took  a  cake  from  the  silver  basket  with  her 
trembling  hand,  she  cried,  with  glad  laughter: 

"  At  last  you  will  eat  even  a  cake!  You  have  changed 
immensely,  mamma.  I  cannot  call  you  now  as  I  once  did, 
a  little  glutton,  since  for  some  time  past  you  eat  so  little 
that  it  is  nearly  nothing." 

Malvina  smiled  fondly  at  the  name  which  on  a  time  her 
daughter  had  given  her  Jestingly,  and  Irene  continued  in 
the  same  tone: 

"  Remember,  mamma,  how  you  and  I,  with  one  small 
assistant  in  Cara,  ate  whole  baskets  of  cakes,  or  big,  big 
boxes  of  confectionery.  Now  that  is  past.  I  notice  this 
long  time  that  you  eat  almost  nothing,  and  that  you  dress 
richly  only  because  you  must  do  so.  At  times,  were  it  possi- 
ble, you  would  put  on  haircloth  instead  of  rich  silks,  would 
you  not?    Have  I  guessed  rightly?" 

While  a  faint  blush  covered  her  forehead  and  cheeks 
again,  Malvina  answered: 

"  Rightly." 

43 


The  Argonauts 

Irene  grew  thonghtf iil ;  without  raising  her  eyes  to  her 
mother  she  inquired  in  a  low  voice: 

"  What  is  the  cause  of  this?  " 

"Eeturning  currents  of  life  are  the  cause,"  answered 
Malvina  after  a  rather  long  silence,  and  she  continued, 
thoughtfully:  "You  see,  my  child,  currents  of  a  river 
when  once  they  have  passed  never  come  back  again,  but 
currents  of  life  come  back.  My  early  youth  was  poor,  as 
you  know,  calm,  laborious,  brightened  by  ideals,  from  which 
I  have  deviated  much!  That  was  long  ago,  but  it  hap- 
pened. In  life  so  many  years  pass  sometimes,  that  events 
which  precede  those  years  seem  a  dream,  but  they  are 
real  and  come  back  to  us." 

Irene  listened  to  this  hesitating,  low  conversation  with 
drooping  eyelids  and  forehead  resting  on  her  hand.  She 
made  no  answer.    Malvina,  sunk  in  thought,  was  silent  also. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  tea  things  vanished  from  the 
table,  removed  without  a  sound  almost,  and  borne  out  by 
the  young  waiting-maid. 

With  eyelids  still  drooping,  as  if  she  were  finishing  an 
idea  circling  stubbornly  in  her  head,  Irene  said  with  pen- 
sive lips: 

"  A  haircloth!  "  She  rose  then,  and,  suppressing  a  yawn, 
said:  "I  am  sleepy.  Good-night,  mamma,  dear!"  She 
placed  a  brief  kiss  on  her  mother's  hand:  "  Shall  I  call 
Rosalia?  " 

"  No,  no !  Tell  her  to  go  to  sleep.  I  will  undress  my- 
self and  go  to  bed  unattended." 

"  Good-night!  " 

Stepping  quietly  along  the  carpet  Irene  passed  out. 
Malvina  followed  the  young  lady  to  the  door  with  her  eyes, 
and  the  moment  she  was  alone  she  threw  her  arm  over  her 
head,  turned  her  face  upward,  and  repeated  a  number  of 

46 


The  Argonauts 

times,  audibly:  "0  God!  0  God!"  Then  she  rested 
her  elbows  on  the  arms  of  the  chair,  covered  her  face  with 
both  palms,  the  broad  sleeves  of  her  dress  fell  from  her 
arms  like  broken  v/ings.  Thus,  altogether  motionless,  she 
dropped  into  an  abyss  of  regrets,  reminiscences,  and  fears. 

The  night  flowed  on.  The  clock  among  the  flowers  in 
that  study  struck  the  first  hour  after  midnight,  then  the 
second  hour,  and  each  time  in  the  darkness  of  the  drawing- 
rooms  another  clock  answered  in  tones  which  were  deeper 
and  more  resonant.  The  syringa  and  hyacinths  gave 
out  a  still  stronger  odor,  though  the  cold  increased  in  that 
chamber.  The  frosty  winter  night  was  creeping  in,  even  to 
dwellings  which  were  carefully  heated,  and  was  filling  them 
with  darkness  penetrated  w4th  cold;  along  Malvina's 
shoulders,  which  were  bent  over  the  arm  of  the  chair,  shivers 
began  to  pass. 

In  the  darkness  and  cold  a  slight  rustle  was  heard,  and 
on  the  background  of  this  darkness,  in  the  doorway,  ap- 
peared Irene.  She  wore  a  short,  embroidered  dress  of 
cambric,  and  her  fiery  tresses  were  on  her  shoulders.  She 
stood  in  the  doorway  with  neck  extended  toward  her 
mother,  then  walking  in  soft  slippers  silently  she  passed 
through  the  room  like  a  shadow,  and  vanished  beyond  the 
opposite  door.  There  was  something  ghostlike  in  those 
two  women;  one  passed,  without  the  slightest  rustle,  by 
the  other,  who  was  sleeping  in  a  low  chair,  without  making 
the  least  movement.  Outside  that  mansion  the  streets  of 
the  city  were  entering  into  a  deeper  and  longer  silence. 

The  clock  in  the  study  struck  three,  in  the  darkness  three 
strokes,  remote  and  deep,  answered.  In  the  air  the  volatile 
and  languid  odor  of  syringas  was  overcome  by  the 
narcotic  and  stronger  odor  of  hyacinths.  The  increasing  cold 
flowed  around  them  with  painful  contrast.     In  the  door, 

47 


The  Argonauts 

beyond  which  she  had  vanished,  Irene  appeared  again,  just 
as  silently  as  before.  She  passed  through  the  room  and 
placed  a  shawl  upon  her  mother's  shoulders.  Malvina,  feel- 
ing the  soft  stuff,  woke  as  if  from  a  dream. 

"  What  is  this?  "  exclaimed  she,  raising  her  face,  the 
cheeks  of  which  were  gleaming  in  the  light  of  the  lamp;  but 
when  she  saw  her  daughter  she  smiled  with  relief  immedi- 
ately. 

''  That  is  you,  Ira?    Why  are  you  not  asleep?  " 

"  I  cannot  sleep,  and  I  came  for  the  book  which  we  began 
to  read  together.  It  is  growing  cold,  so  I  brought  a  shawl. 
Good-night." 

She  went  aside  but  did  not  leave  the  room.  She  had  no 
book  in  her  hand;  perhaps  she  was  looking  for  it  in  the 
beautifully  carved  case  filled  with  books,  for  she  opened  the 
case  and  stood  before  it  with  arms  raised  toward  the  upper 
shelves,  her  hair  lying  motionless  on  the  white  cambric  cov- 
ering her  shoulders. 

Malvina  was  looking  at  her  daughter,  in  her  eyes  was  im- 
patience; she  was  waiting  for  her  to  go. 

"  Is  it  late  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  Very  late,"  answered  Irene,  without  turning  her  head. 

"  Does  Cara  cough  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  heard  her  cough  to-day." 

Malvina  rose,  but  tottered  so  much  that  she  was  forced 
to  rest  her  hand  on  the  edge  of  the  table.  She  seemed 
greatly  wearied. 

"  Go  to  sleep.  Good-night!  "  said  she,  passing  her  daugh- 
ter. 

Irene  looked  at  her  tottering  step  and  followed  her  quickly 
a  number  of  paces. 

"  Mamma!  "  cried  she. 

"  What,  Ira?  " 

48 


The  Argonauts 

Irene  stood  before  her  mother  a  moment,  her  lips  were 
quivering  with  words  which  she  withheld,  till  she  bent, 
kissed  her  mother's  hand  gently,  and  said  in  her  usual  man- 
ner: 

'^  Good-night!" 

Then  she  stood  a  while  longer  before  the  open  case,  listen- 
ing to  the  rustle  made  by  her  mother  while  going  to  bed, 
and  when  that  had  ceased  she  closed  the  case  and  moved 
quietly  into  the  darkness  behind  the  outer  door. 

At  that  same  time  a  carriage  thundered  in  the  silence  and 
passed  through  the  gateway.  Restrained  movement  rose  in 
the  antechamber  from  which  one  servant  ran  out  into  the 
dimly  lighted  stairway,  and  another  rushed  to  the  study  and 
bedroom  of  the  master  of  the  mansion  to  increase  quickly 
the  light  of  the  lamps  there.  Darvid  went  up  the  stairs 
quickly  and  with  sprightliness ;  he  threw  into  the  hands 
of  the  servant  his  fur,  which  was  costly  and  original,  since 
it  was  brought  from  the  distant  North,  and  began  at  once 
to  read  at  the  round  table,  through  an  eyeglass,  that 
which  he  had  jotted  down  recently  in  his  pocket  note- 
book. The  book  was  in  ivory  binding  with  a  gold  mono- 
gram, and  a  pencil  with  a  gold  case.  While  reading 
Darvid  put  a  brief  question  to  the  servant: 

"  Has  Pan  Maryan  returned?  " 

The  answer  was  negative.  Large  and  heavy  wrinkles  ap- 
peared between  Darvid's  brows,  but  he  continued  to  read  his 
notes.  Almost  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later  he  wrote  some- 
thing more  while  bending  over  the  desk,  and  standing.  Soon 
in  the  bedchamber,  furnished  by  the  most  skillful  decorator 
of  the  capital,  a  night-lamp  on  the  mantel  of  a  chimney 
illuminated  a  bed  adorned  with  rich  carving;  a  white  and 
lean  hand  stretched  out  on  a  silk  coverlet,  and  a  face  also, 
which  was  like  ivory,  and  shining  with  two  blue  sleepless 

49 


The  Argonauts 

eyes,  keenly  glittering.  Darvid  cast  an  inattentive  glance 
through  the  room,  over  which,  in  the  pale  lamplight,  two 
beautiful  female  heads  seemed  to  hover,  reflected  and 
multiplied  in  mirrors  standing  opposite  each  other.  This 
was  a  most  beautiful  work — a  genuine  Greuze.  To  win 
this  masterpiece  Darvid  outbid  a  number  of  men  of  high 
standing;  he  triumphed  and  was  delighted.  But  now  his 
sleepless  glance  passed  over  that  pearl  of  art  inattentively. 
His  night  at  the  club  instead  of  diverting  and  calming  had 
bored  and  irritated.  His  honorable  partner  was  annoying, 
and  rude  in  addition.  Never  would  he  have  forced  him- 
self to  play  with  the  man,  had  not  that  relation  been  an 
honor,  and — what  was  more — had  it  not  been  needful. 
Women  say :  one  must  suffer  to  be  beautiful ;  men  need 
to  change  only  the  last  word  and  say:  one  must  suffer 
to  be  powerful.  But  that  was  beginning  to  be  repulsive, 
and,  above  all,  to  be  wearisome.  Only  when  in  bed  did 
he  feel  that  he  was  weary.  He  could  not  sleep.  He  had 
slept  badly  for  some  weeks — since  the  time  of  that 
wretched  letter.  At  thought  of  that  letter  the  serpents 
stirred  in  Darvid's  breast,  but  he  shut  them  down  in  their 
den  by  hissing :  "  Stupidity ! "  And  he  fell  into  long 
and  uneasy  thought  about  that  man  whom  he  had  sent 
on  weighty  business,  but  who  had  not  returned  yet. 

Perhaps  chance  will  not  favor  him  this  time,  and  another 
hand  will  seize  the  field  of  action  and  the  great  profits.  He 
knows  that  he  has  enemies  and  rivals  who  envy,  who  under- 
mine him.  Well,  he  will  win  also  in  this  ease,  only  he 
would  like  something  afterward — what  ?  He  himself  does 
not  know  what — perhaps  rest.  To  go  for  a  time  to  Switz- 
erland or  Italy.  For  what  purpose  ?  He  is  not  over  curi- 
ous about  art  and  nature,  he  has  no  time  to  fall  in  love 
with  them.     Without  occupation  he  would  be  bored  in 

50 


The  Argonauts 

all  places,  and  besides  he  must  finish  these  family  ques- 
tions. He  must  tame  Maryan,  and  hinder  Irene's  mar- 
riage to  the  baron.  He  is  fighting  a  battle  with  his  own 
son  and  daughter.  Cara  is  the  only  one  with  whom  he 
has  no  trouble.  She  is  mild  and  beautiful.  Her  head 
is  turned  also,  but  in  another,  a  more  agreeable  direc- 
tion. She  is  greatly  attached  to  him,  the  dear  child!  She 
is  frail.  He  must  speak  to  the  doctor  about  her.  Perhaps 
send  her  to  Italy.  With  whom?  With  her  mother?  He 
would  never  permit  that.  The  child  is  his.  He  will  go 
himself  with  Cara.  But  in  that  case  what  will  become 
of  his  enterprise? 

In  the  interior  of  the  mansion  were  heard  deep,  metallic 
sounds.    The  clock  struck  five. 

In  that  same  mansion,  at  the  distant  end  of  it,  in  a  cham- 
ber lighted  by  a  blue  night-lamp,  was  heard  a  low,  dry 
cough,  and  a  frail,  tall  maiden,  in  night-clothing  covered 
with  lace,  sat  up  in  a  blue  and  white  bed. 

"Miss  Mary!  Miss  Mary!"  cried  she,  with  fear  in  her 
voice. 

From  the  adjoining  chamber  came  a  voice  of  agreeable 
tone  and  somewhat  drowsy: 

"  You  are  not  asleep,  Cara  ?  " 

"  I  have  slept.  The  cough  woke  me,  but  that  is  well, 
for  I  had  a  dreadful  dream.  I  dreamed  that  papa  and 
mamma " 

She  stopped  suddenly,  and,  though  no  one  was  looking 
at  her,  she  hid  her  delicate  face  in  the  blue  coverlet.  So 
only  in  a  whisper  did  she  tell  the  end  of  her  dream: 

"  They  were  angry  at  each  other — so  awfully  angry — Ira 
put  her  arms  around  mamma — Maryan  went  away  hissing. 
I  hung  to  papa,  and  cried  so,  and  cried." 

In  fact  her  eyes  were  then  filled  with  tears  from  the  dream. 

51 


The  Argonauts 

But  she  stretched  in  the  bed,  and,  with  her  head  on  the 
pillows,  thought,  till  she  called  again : 

"  Miss  Mary!    Are  you  sleeping  ?  " 

"No,  dear;   do  you  wish  anything?" 

Cara  began  in  a  loud  voice  : 

"  I  wish  immensely,  immensely.  Miss  Mary,  to  go  with 
you  to  England,  to  your  father  and  mother.  Oh,  how  I 
should  like  to  be  in  that  parsonage  a  while,  where  your 
sisters  teach  poor  children  and  nurse  the  sick,  and  your 
mother  makes  tea  at  the  grate  for  your  father  when  he  comes 
home  after  services.  Oh,  Mary,  if  you  and  I  could  go  to  that 
place!  It  is  so  pleasant  there."  In  the  blue  light  and 
in  the  silence  her  thin  voice  recalled  the  t^vittering  of  a 
lark. 

"  We  will  go  there  sometime,  dear.  Your  parents  will 
permit,  and  we  will  go.    But  sleep  now." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  sleep.  Good-night,  Miss  Mary — my 
dear,  good  Miss  Mary." 

She  lay  some  minutes  quietly  thinking,  till  she  sat  up 
again  in  bed  coughing.  When  the  cough  had  passed,  she 
called  in  a  low  voice: 

"  Miss  Mary!    Miss  Mary!  " 

There  was  no  answer. 

"  She  is  sleeping,"  whispered  Cara,  and  after  a  while  she 
looked  around,  and,  in  a  lower  voice,  called: 

"Puffie!    Puffie!" 

At  this  call  the  little  dog  sprang  from  a  neighboring  chair, 
and  in  the  twinkle  of  an  eye  was  on  the  bed. 

Cara  stroked  the  silken  coat  of  the  dog,  and  bending 
toward  him  whispered: 

"Puffie!  Puffie!  dear,  little  dog!  lie  here,  sleep  for 
thyself! " 

She  put  him  on  her  breast  almost  at  her  chin;  with  her 

53 


The  Argonauts 

hand  on  his  coat,  and  with  the  whisper:     "  Puffie!    good 
Puffie!  "  she  fell  asleep. 

Then  was  heard  the  sound  of  a  drozhky,  coming  quickly, 
with  uproar  in  front  of  the  house,  and  again  there  was 
an  end  to  voices  and  movement.  Two  men  ascended  the 
stairway,  one  much  older  than  the  other,  with  a  carefully 
brushed,  but  somewhat  worn  hat,  in  a  fashionable  but  some- 
what worn  fur.    He  spoke  in  a  low  voice: 

"Yes,  yes!  c'est  quelque  chose  d'inoui!  he  commanded 
me  to  break  off  all  relations  with  you,  and  to  stop  visit- 
ing his  house.'' 

"A  thousand  and  one  nights!  Why  is  it?  What  is  it 
for?"  exclaimed  the  other. 

Suddenly  he  stopped  part  way  on  the  stairs,  and  asked 
with  a  half  jeering,  half  pitying  look  at  his  companion: 

"If  he  should  find  out?" 

Kranitski  turned  his  face  away. 

"  My  ]\Iaryan — with  you — of  that " 

"  Painted  pots! "  laughed  Maryan.  "  Do  you  take 
me  for  my  great-grandfather?  Well,  has  he  found  it 
out?" 

With  red  spots  on  his  cheeks  and  forehead  Kranitski 
blinked  affirmatively. 

"Sapristi!"  imprecated  Maryan,  and  immediately  he 
laughed  again.  "  And  why?  for  what  reason?  Did  he  also 
believe  in  painted  pots?    I  thought  him  modern." 

"  Alas!  "  sighed  Kranitski. 

They  advanced  in  silence,  passed  the  first  story  of  the 
house.  Maryan's  bachelor  chambers  were  on  the  second 
story. 

"  My  dear  old  man,  I  am  sorry  for  you,  enormously  sorry," 
began  young  Darvid  again.  "  I  have  grown  so  accustomed 
to  you.     You  will  have  to  suffer,  and  poor  mamma,  too. 

63 


The  Argonauts 

Where  did  he  get  all  this?    A  man  of  such  sense!    I  thought 

that  his  head  was  better  ventilated " 

He  could  not  finish,  for  Kranitski  threw  himself  on  his 
neck  at  the  very  door  of  his  apartments.    He  wept.    Drying 
his  eyes  with  his  perfumed  cambric  handkerchief,  he  said: 
"My  Maryan,  I  shall  not  survive  this  blow!    I  love  you 

all  so  much — you  are — for  me — as  a  younger  brother " 

He  tried  to  kiss  him,  but  Maryan  broke  away  from  his 
embrace,  and  his  tears,  the  moisture  of  which  he  felt  on  his 
face,  with  discomfort. 

"  But  it  is  absurd!  "  exclaimed  he.  "  Are  we  to  break  out 
relations  because  they  displease  someone?  Are  we  slaves? 
Laugh  at  that,  my  dear.  Come  to  me  as  before,  but  pass  the 
night  now  with  me,  for  it  would  be  difficult  for  you  to  go 
home  at  this  hour." 

He  touched  the  button  of  the  electric  bell,  and  when  the 
door  opened  at  once,  he  said  to  his  companion  on  the  thresh- 
old: 

"  Bianca  sings  that  aria  from  the  '  Cavalier '  gloriously, 

does  she  not?    La,  la,  la " 

He  tried  to  give  the  music,  but  his  voice  failed.  So  he 
disappeared  behind  the  closing  door,  humming  the  aria  of 
the  splendid  singer  which  he  had  just  heard  at  supper. 

Below,  two  clocks,  one  after  the  other,  sounded  out  six. 
Through  the  great  windoAvs  light  began  to  enter  from  the 
snow-covered  streets.  That  seemed  the  gradual  and  slow- 
drawing  aside  of  a  dark  curtain,  from  behind  which  came 
out  with  increasing  distinctness,  furniture,  pictures,  mir- 
rors, candlesticks,  vases,  rugs,  plushes,  velvets,  polish,  gilt, 
mosaics,  ivory,  porcelain.  Until  all  standing  forth  in  the 
full  light  of  that  winter  morning  began  like  a  pearl  shell  to 
interchange  various  colors  and  lustres,  and  to  drop  from 
the  walls  and  ceilings  reflections  of  gold  on  the  shining  floor. 

54 


CHAPTER  III 

Kranitski  ascended  a  carpeted  stairway,  which  was 
adorned  with  lamps  and  statues.  His  fur  coat  with  a  costly 
collar  was  over  worn  somewhat;  his  hat  was  shining;  his 
step  free,  and  there  was  a  cheerful  smile  under  his  mustaches, 
which  were  turned  up  at  the  ends  carefully.  The  stairway 
was  almost  a  street.  People  were  passing  up  and  down  on 
it,  and  whenever  you  met  them  and  caught  their  eyes  you 
noted  freedom,  self-confidence,  elegance;  you  saw  the  elev- 
enth commandment  of  God,  which  Moses,  only  through 
some  inconceivable  forgetfulness,  neglected  to  add  to  the 
Decalogue. 

Entering  the  antechamber  he  threw  the  servant  his  fur, 
from  which  issued  the  odor  of  excellent  perfumes.  From 
the  pocket  of  his  coat  peeped  the  edge  of  a  handkerchief. 
He  arranged  before  a  mirror  his  hair,  thick  yet  above  his 
forehead,  but  showing  from  behind  a  small,  circular,  bald 
spot.  Hat  in  hand,  and  with  a  springy,  self-confident  tread, 
he  entered  the  drawing-room.  Only  two  red  spots  above  his 
brow  interrupted  the  whiteness  of  his  forehead,  which  was 
slightly  wrinkled;  his  eyes,  usually  gleaming  or  affable,  were 
mist-covered. 

In  a  door,  opposite  that  by  which  Kranitski  entered,  stood 
Irene,  under  a  crimson  drapery  of  curtains,  with  an  open 
book  in  her  hand.  Kranitski,  with  that  light-swaying  of 
the  body,  with  which  elegants  are  accustomed  to  approach 
ladies,  approached  Irene  and,  bending  easily  before  her, 
kissed  her  hand. 

55 


The  Argonauts 

"May  one  enter?  "  inquired  he,  indicating  with,  his  eyes 
the  door  of  an  adjoining  cliamber. 

"  I  beg  you  to  enter,  mamma  is  in  her  study." 
The  inclination  of  head,  and  sound  of  Irene's  voice,  con- 
tained only  that  measure  of  cordiality  which  was  absolutely 
demanded  by  politeness,  but  that  was  her  way  always  and 
with  every  one.  Cold  radiated  from  her,  and  such  indif- 
ference that  it  was  sometimes  a  contemptuous  disregard  for 
people  and  things.  But  when  Kranitski,  hat  in  hand,  passed 
two  drawing-rooms  she  followed  him  with  her  glance,  in 
which,  besides  disquiet,  there  was  a  kindly  feeling,  and 
more,  perhaps,  a  feeling  of  pity.  She  was  accustomed  from 
childhood  to  see  him;  he  was  gentle,  as  ready  as  a  slave  to 
render  service,  as  ready  as  a  friend  to  oblige;  he  noted  the 
wants  not  only  of  the  lady  of  the  house,  but  of  each  of  her 
children.  He  had  the  subdued  manner  and  pliancy  of 
people  who  do  not  feel  that  they  merit  what  they  have, 
and  are  ever  trembling  lest  they  lose  it.  He  had,  be- 
sides, the  gift  of  reading  beautifully  in  various  languages. 
For  a  number  of  years  Irene  could  not  remember  pieas- 
anter  evenings  than  those  which,  free  from  society  de- 
mands, she  had  passed  in  her  mother's  study  when  Kran- 
itski was  present.  Sometimes  Cara  and  her  governess 
took  part  in  these  domestic  gatherings;  sometimes,  also, 
though  more  and  more  rarely,  they  were  enlivened  by  the 
presence  of  Maryan,  who,  in  the  intervals  of  reading, 
chaffed  with  his  sister  and  mother,  and  argued  with  Kran- 
itski about  various  tendencies  in  taste  and  literature. 
Most  frequently,  however,  Cara  was  occupied  with  lessons, 
and  Maryan  by  society,  and  only  she  and  Malvina,  with 
artistic  work  in  hand,  listened  in  silence  and  thoughtfully 
to  that  resonant,  manly  voice,  which  rendered  master- 
pieces of  thought  and  poetry  with  perfect  appreciation 

56 


The  Argonauts 

and  feeling.  During  such  evenings  Irene  was  seized  at 
moments  by  a  dream  of  certain  grand  solitudes,  pure, 
surrounded  by  cordial  warmth,  remote  from  the  uproar 
of  streets,  the  rustle  of  silks,  the  noise  of  vain  words, 
whose  emptiness  and  falsehood  she  had  measured;  but 
straightway  she  said  to  herself :  "  Painted  pots,  ideals ! 
these  have  no  existence ! "  and  she  made  a  gesture,  as 
if  driving  from  above  her  head  a  beautiful  butterfly,  feel- 
ing convinced  that  that  butterfly  was  merely  a  phantom. 
To-day,  from  minute  observation,  the  conjecture  rose  in 
her  that  something  uncommon  had  happened,  and  that 
something  more  must  happen,  also;  she  was  colder  and 
more  formal  than  ever,  with  a  burning  spark  of  fear  in 
the  depth  of  her  blue,  clear  eyes.  Her  dress  was  of  cloth, 
closely  fitting,  somewhat  masculine  in  the  cut  of  the  waist, 
and  on  the  top  of  her  head  was  a  Japanese  knot  of  fiery  hair, 
pierced  by  a  pin  with  steel  lustres.  In  her  hand  was  an  open 
book,  and  she  walked  along  slowly  through  the  two  spacious 
drawing-rooms.  She  did  not  raise  her  eyes  from  the  book, 
though  she  did  not  turn  a  page  in  it.  At  one  door  she 
turned  immediately,  at  the  other,  which  was  closed,  she 
stopped  for  a  few  seconds  when  she  caught  the  sound  of 
conversation,  carried  on  beyond  the  door,  in  low  voices,  by 
two  people.  She  did  not  wish  to  hear  that  conversation. 
Oh,  she  did  not!  How  long  ago  was  it  since  she  had 
striven  to  be  deaf  as  well  as  blind,  and  frequently  so  deaf 
that  no  glance  of  the  qjq,  no  movement  of  the  face  might 
betray  that  she  had  sight  or  hearing.  But  now,  as  often 
as  a  louder  sound  struck  her  ears  from  beyond  the  closed 
door  she  stood  immovable,  and  her  eyelids  quivered  like 
leaves  stirred  by  wind.  For  a  long  time  it  had  seeme(i 
to  her  that  something  terrible  might  happen  in  that  house 
some  day,  something  to  which  she  would  not  be  able  to 

67 


The  Argonauts 

remain  deaf  and  blind.  Might  it  not  happen  just  that 
day  ?  AVith  slow,  even  step  along  the  gleaming  floor,  be- 
tween purple,  azure,  and  various  shades  of  white,  which 
filled  the  drawing-rooms,  she  walked,  in  her  closely-fitting 
dress,  from  one  door  to  the  other,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
book,  her  manner  colder,  more  formal  than  ever,  her  deli- 
cate motionless  face,  above  which  the  long  pin  threw  out 
metallic  gleams.  Suddenly  an  outburst  of  silver  laughter 
was  heard  at  another  door.  Till  that  moment  two  female 
voices  had  been  heard,  speaking  English,  beyond  this  door, 
now  thrown  open  with  a  rattle.  Golden  strips  of  light, 
cast  in  by  the  winter  sun,  were  lying  on  the  purple  and 
white  of  the  drawing-room.  Into  this  drawing-room 
rushed  a  strange  pair;  a  maiden  of  fifteen,  in  a  bright 
dress,  golden-haired,  rosy,  and  tall,  bent  low;  she  held 
by  the  forepaws  a  little  ash-colored  dog,  and  with  him 
went  waltzing  around  the  furniture  of  the  room,  humming 
as  she  moved  the  fashionable:  La,  la,  la!  La,  la,  la!  A  pair 
of  small  feet,  in  elegant  slippers,  and  a  pair  of  shaggy,  beast 
paws,  whirled  over  the  gleaming  inlaid  floor,  around  long 
chairs,  tables,  columns  holding  vases;  swiftly,  swiftly  did 
she  go  till  she  met  Irene  at  the  door  of  the  next  drawing- 
room.  Cara  raised  the  little  dog  from  the  floor,  straightened 
herself,  her  eyes  met  the  strange  glance  of  her  sister.  Irene 
blinked  repeatedly,  as  if  some  disagreeable  light  had  struck 
her  eyes. 

"  Always  so  gladsome,  Cara!  " 

"  I?  "  cried  the  girl.  "  Oh,  so!  Puffie  made  me  laugh — 
and — the  sun  shines  so  nicely.  The  day  is  beautiful,  isn't 
it,  Ira?  Have  you  noticed  how  diamond  sparks  glitter  on 
the  snow?  The  trees  are  all  covered  with  frost.  Let  us 
go  with  Miss  Mary  for  a  walk.  I  will  take  Puffie,  but  I 
will  cover  him  with  that  blanket  which  I  finished  em- 
broidering yesterday.     Is  mamma  well  ?  " 

58 


The  Argonauts 

"  Why  do  you  ask  about  mamma?  " 

"  Because,  when  I  gave  her  '  good-morning/  I  thought 
that  she  was  ill,  she  was  so  pale — pale.  I  asked  her,  but  she 
said:     'Oh,  it  is  nothing,  I  am  well.'     Still  it  seems  to 


"Let  nothing  seem  to  you!"  Irene  interrupted  her  al- 
most angrily.  "  The  surmises  of  children  like  you  have  no 
sense  in  them  most  of  the  time.    Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  To  father." 

She  pointed  with  her  eyes  to  her  mother's  rooms. 

"  Is  that — that  man  there?  " 

It  was  not  to  be  discovered  why  she  spoke  in  lowered 
tones,  but  Irene's  voice  sounded  almost  harsh  when  she  in- 
quired: 

"Whatman?" 

"  Pan  Kranitski." 

Now  Cara's  red,  small  lips,  in  the  twinkle  of  an  eye,  formed 
a  crooked  line  in  spite  of  her;  then,  bending  toward  her 
sister,  she  said,  almost  in  a  whisper: 

"  Tell  me,  Ira,  but  tell  the  truth.  Do  you  like  that  man 
—Kranitski?" 

Irene  laughed  aloud,  freely,  almost  as  she  had  never 
laughed. 

"  Ridiculous!  Ah,  what  an  amusing  baby  you  are!  Why 
should  I  not  like  him?  He  is  our  old  and  good  acquaint- 
ance." And  returning  to  her  usual  formality,  she  added: 
"  Besides,  you  know  that  I  do  not  like  anyone  very  much." 

"  Not  me?  "  asked  Cara,  fondly  touching  with  her  red  lips 
the  pale  cheeks  of  her  sister, 

"  You  ?  A  little !  But  go  away.  You  hinder  mv  read- 
ing." 

"I  will  go.  Come  Pufiie — come!"  And  with  the  dog 
on  her  arm  she  went  off,  but  she  stopped  at  the  door,  and 

59 


The  Argonauts 

turning  to  Irene,  she  bent  forward  a  little,  and  said,  in  a 
low  voice:  "But  I  do  not  like  him — I  do  not  know  why 
this  is.  First  I  liked  him,  but  for  some  time  I  cannot  en- 
dure him — I  do  not  know  myself  why." 

At  the  last  words  she  turned  away,  capriciously,  and  went 
on. 

"  She  does  not  know!  does  not  know!  "  whispered  Irene 
over  her  book.  "  That  is  why  she  dances  with  the  dog. 
What  happiness  in  Arcadian  life !  " 

The  little  one,  going  on,  began  to  hum  again,  but  near 
the  door  of  her  father's  study  she  grew  silent  and  stopped. 
The  sound  of  a  number  of  men's  voices  in  conversation 
reached  her.    She  dropped  her  hand,  and  whispered: 

"Father  has  visitors!  What  shall  we  do  now,  Puffie? 
How*  shall  we  go  in  there  ?  " 

After  a  moment's  thought  and  hesitation  she  stepped  in 
very  quietly  under  the  drapery  of  the  portiere,  and  in  the 
twinkle  of  an  eye  was  sitting  on  a  small,  low  stool  which 
stood  behind  a  tall  case  of  shelves  filled  with  books,  which, 
placed  near  the  door,  formed  with  two  walls  a  narrow, 
triangular  space.  That  was  an  excellent  corner,  a  real 
asylum  which  she  could  reach  unobserved,  and  which  she 
had  selected  for  herself  earlier.  The  books  on  the  shelves 
hid  her  perfectly,  but  left  small  cracks  through  which  she 
could  see  everyone.  Whenever  there  were  guests  with  her 
father  she  entered  directly  from  the  door,  with  one  silent 
little  step  she  pushed  in,  waited  longer  than  the  guests, 
and  when  they  were  gone  she  could  talk  with  her  father. 

At  the  round  table,  which  was  covered  with  books,  maps, 
and  pamphlets,  in  broad  armchairs  were  sitting,  hat  in  hand, 
men  of  various  statures  and  ages.  They  had  not  come 
on  business,  but  to  make  calls  of  longer  or  shorter  dura- 
tion.    Some  were  giving  place  to  others,  who  came  un- 

60 


The  Argonauts 

eeasingly,  or  rather  flowed  in  as  wave  follows  wave.  Some 
went,  others  came.  The  pressing  of  hands,  bows  more  or 
less  profound,  polite  and  choice  phrases,  conversation,  in- 
terrupted and  begun  again,  conversation  touching  im- 
portant and  serious  questions  of  European  politics,  local 
questions  of  the  higher  order,  and  problems  of  society, 
especially  financial  and  economic. 

Darvid's  voice,  low  but  metallic,  filled  the  study,  it  was 
heard  by  all  with  an  attention  almost  religious;  in  general, 
Darvid  seemed  to  rule  over  that  ever-changing  throng  of 
men,  by  his  word,  by  his  gestures,  by  his  eyes,  with  their 
cold  and  penetrating  gleam,  from  behind  the  glasses  of  his 
binocle.  He  was  radiant  with  a  certain  kind  of  power,  which 
made  him  what  he  was,  and  the  world  yielded  to  the  charm 
of  this  power,  for  it  created  wealth,  that  object  of  most  uni- 
versal and  passionate  desire.  He  himself  felt  all  its  might 
at  that  moment.  When  at  the  door  of  the  study  were  heard, 
announced  by  the  servant,  names  famous  because  they  were 
ancient,  others  known  for  high  office,  or  for  the  reputa- 
tion which  science  and  mental  gifts  confer,  he  experienced  a 
feeling  like  that  which  a  cat  must  feel  when  stroked  along 
the  back.  He  felt  the  hand  of  fate  stroking  him,  and  the 
delight  caused  by  this  became  very  pleasing.  He  was  elo- 
quent, he  was  gleaming  with  self-confidence,  judgment,  and 
ease  of  utterance.  ISTot  the  least  pride  was  to  be  observed 
in  him,  only  the  gleam  of  glory  issuing  from  his  smooth 
forehead,  and  the  mysterious  sensation  of  apotheosis,  which 
pushed  an  invisible  pedestal  under  the  man,  and  made  him 
seem  loftier  than  he  was  in  reality. 

At  a  certain  moment  a  number  of  men  entered,  they 
seemed  almost  sunk  in  humility,  and  at  the  same  time  filled 
with  solemnity.  That  was  a  delegation  from  a  well-known 
philanthropic  society  in  the  city;  they  had  come  to  Darvid 

61 


The  Argonauts 

with  a  request  to  take  part  in  their  work  by  a  money  con- 
tribution and  by  personal  assistance.  He  began  by  the  gift 
of  a  considerable  sum,  but  refused  personal  assistance. 
He  had  not  the  time,  he  said,  but  even  had  he  time,  he 
was  opposed  in  principle  to  all  philanthropic  activity. 
"  Philanthropy  gives  a  beautiful  witness  touching  those  who 
engage  in  it,  but  it  cannot  prevent  the  misfortunes  which 
torture  the  race;  nay,  it  strengthens  them  needlessly,  and 
offers  premiums  to  sloth  and  incompetence.  Only  exertion 
of  all  forces  in  untiring  and  iron  labor  can  save  mankind 
from  the  cancer  of  poverty  which  tortures  it.  Were  there 
no  help  behind  any  man's  shoulders,  no  hands  would 
drop  down  unoccupied;  each  man  would  exercise  his  own 
strength,  and  misery  would  vanish  from  this  earth  of 
ours." 

Among  those  present,  a  guarded  and  immensely  polite 
opposition  rose,  however. 

"  The  weak,  the  cripples,  lonely  old  men  and  children?  " 

"  Philanthropy,"  answered  Darvid,  "  cannot  stop  the  ex- 
istence of  these  social  castaways,  it  merely  continues  and 
establishes  them." 

"But  they  have  hungry  stomachs,  sad  souls  and  hearts 
— like  our  own." 

"What  is  to  be  done,"  inquired  Darvid,  with  outspread 
palms  which  indicated  regret.  "  There  must  be  victors 
and  vanquished  in  the  world,  and  the  sooner  the  latter 
are  swept  from  existence  the  better  for  them  and  for 
mankind." 

A  look  of  displeasure  was  evident  on  the  faces  of  some, 
but  they  were  silent,  the  oldest  man  rose,  and  smiling  most 
agreeably,  ended  the  argument: 

"  But  if  philanthropy  had  many  patrons  like  you  its  ac- 
tivity would  correct  the  injustice  of  fate  very  frequently." 

63 


The  Argonauts 

"  Let  us  not  call  fate  unjust,"  retorted  Darvid  with  a 
smile,  "  because  it  favors  strength  and  crushes  incompetence. 
On  the  contrary  its  action  is  beneficent,  for  it  strengthens 
all  that  is  worthy  of  life,  and  destroys  that  which  is  useless." 

"  It  has  been  just  to  you,  and  in  this  case  we  all  owe  it 
gratitude,"  concluded  the  oldest  man  in  the  delegation,  end- 
ing the  dispute  hurriedly.  Holding,  meanwhile,  Darvid's 
hand  in  his  two  palms  he  shook  it  with  a  cordial  pressure, 
and  his  gray  head,  and  face,  furrowed  with  wrinkles,  were 
bent  in  a  profound  obeisance.  For  those  whom  his  honest 
heart  pitied  he  carried  a  gift  so  considerable  that,  in  spite 
of  words  which  were  not  to  his  mind,  the  homage  and  grati- 
tude which  he  gave  came  from  perfect  sincerity. 

At  last  Darvid's  study  was  deserted,  and  on  his  lips  was 
fixed  a  smile  which  resembled  a  pricking  pin.  Why  had 
he  poured  out  such  a  great  handful  of  money  for  an  object 
which  to  him  was  indifferent,  the  need  of  which  he  did  not 
recognize?  Why?  Habit,  relations,  public  opinion,  ex- 
pressed orally,  and  by  the  printed  word.  A  comedy! 
Misery!  He  frowned,  the  wrinkles  between  his  brows  were 
growing,  when  he  heard  a  slight  rustle  behind.  He  looked 
around,  and  exclaimed: 

"  Cara!  How  did  you  come  in?  Ah!  you  were  sitting 
in  the  corner  behind  the  books!  Only  a  reed  such  as  you 
are  could  squeeze  in  through  that  cranny !  What  is  your 
wish,  my  little  daughter  ?  " 

He  smiled  at  his  daughter,  though  his  glance  turned  to 
the  clock  standing  in  the  corner  of  the  room.  But  Cara, 
with  seriousness  on  her  rosy  face,  stretched  out  to  him  the 
little  dog,  which  had  just  wakened  and  was  still  sleepy. 

"  First  of  all,  I  beg  father  to  stroke  Puffie — Puffie  is 
pretty,  and  he  is  good,  stroke  him  just  once,  father." 

Darvid  drew  his  palm  a  number  of  times,  absent-mindedly, 
over  the  back  of  the  dog. 

63 


The  Argonauts 

"  I  have  stroked  him.  But  now  if  you  have  nothing  else 
to  say " 

"  I  have  no  time! "  added  she,  finishing  her  father's  sen- 
tence. She  laughed,  and  dropping  Puff  on  the  armchair, 
she  caught  her  father  in  both  her  arms: 

"I  will  not  let  you  go!"  cried  she;  "father  must  give 
me  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  ten  minutes,  eight  minutes,  five 
minutes,  I  will  speak  quickly,  quickly.  '  If  I  have  nothing 
more  to  say.'  I  have  piles  of  things  to  say!  I  was  sitting 
in  the  corner  looking  and  listening,  and  I  don't  understand, 
father,  why  so  many  men  come  to  you.  When  one  looks 
at  it  all  from  a  corner,  it  is  so  funny!  They  come  in  and 
how " 

Here  she  ran  to  the  door  and  began  with  motions  and 
gestures  to  enact  that  of  which  she  was  talking.  Puff  sprang 
after  his  mistress,  and,  stopping  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
did  not  take  his  eyes  from  her. 

"  They  come  in,  they  bow,  they  press  your  hand,  father, 
they  sit  down,  they  listen." 

She  sat  on  the  chair  in  the  posture  of  a  man,  and  gave 
her  delicate  features  an  expression  of  profound  attention. 
■Pulf  fixed  his  eyes  on  her  and  began  to  bark. 

"  Or  in  this  way."  She  changed  her  expression  from 
attention  to  gaping.  Next  she  sprang  up  from  the  chair. 
Puff  sprang  up,  too,  and  caught  the  end  of  her  skirt  in  his 
little  teeth.  "  They  rise,  they  bow  again,  they  all  say  the 
same  things:  I  have  the  honor!  I  shall  have  the  honor! 
I  wish  to  have  the  honor!  " 

She  bovv^ed  man-fashion,  knocking  her  heels  together,  and 
then  pushing  apart  her  little,  slippered  feet,  and  Puff  tugged 
at  the  edge  of  her  dress,  sprang  away,  barked  repeatedly,  and 
seized  her  dress  in  his  teeth  again. 

"Puffie,  don't  hinder  me!     Puffie,  go  away!     Some  go 

64 


The  Argonauts 

out,  others  come.  Again:  'I  have  the  honor!  I  wish  to 
have  the  honor! '  PuflBe,  go  away!  They  press  your  hand, 
father.    Oh,  I  have  tired  myself!  " 

Her  breath  had  become  hurried  from  quick  motions  and 
rapid  speaking,  a  bright  flush  covered  her  face,  she  coughed 
and  coughed  again,  she  seized  her  father's  arms. 

"  Do  not  run  away,  father!  I  have  much  to  tell  you.  I 
will  talk  quickly." 

Darvid  had  been  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and 
following  her  quick  movements  with  his  eyes,  at  first  with 
an  indulgent,  and  then  with  a  more  gladsome  smile.  That 
child  was  beaming  with  exuberant  life,  with  wit  also,  which 
had  the  power  to  penetrate  things  and  people;  a  most 
delicate  sensitiveness,  which  made  her  an  instrument  of 
many  strings,  and  these  never  ceased  quivering.  She  re- 
minded him  marvellously  of  Malvina  in  her  youth.  When 
she  began  to  cough  he  caught  her,  and  said: 

"  Do  not  hurry  so;  do  not  speak  so  much;  talk  less;  sit 
down  here." 

"I  have  no  time,  father,  to  talk  slowly — I  cannot  sit 
down — for  you  will  run  away  that  moment.  I  must  hold 
you  and  hurry.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  why  so  many  men 
come  to  you,  and  why  you  go  to  their  houses.  Do  you  love 
them?  Do  they  love  you?  Is  it  agreeable  and  pleasant  for 
you  in  their  company?  What  do  they  want?  What  comes 
of  these  visits,  pleasantness  or  profit?  And  whose  profit, 
theirs  or  yours?  or  the  profit  of  someone  else,  perhaps? 
What  is  all  this  for?  Do  not  these  visits  remind  you  of  the 
theatre?  Though  I  have  never  been  in  the  theatre.  Here, 
as  in  the  theatre,  every  man  plays  some  part,  pretends, 
puts  on  a  face,  does  he  not?  Why  does  he  do  so?  Do 
you  like  this,  father?  I  beg  you  to  tell,  but  only  tell  me 
everything,  everything;   for  father,  I  want  you  to  bo  my 

65 


The  Argonauts 

master,  my  light — you  are  so  wise,  so  respected,  so 
great ! " 

Enthusiasm  put  sparks  into  her  dark  eyeballs  which  were 
turned  up  to  her  father's  face.  Darvid  stroked  her  pale, 
golden  hair. 

"My  dear  child,"  said  he,  "my  little  one!"  After  a 
while  he  added :  "  Are  you  a  wild  girl  from  Australia  or 
Africa  to  ask  me  such  questions?  You  have  seen  visits 
from  childhood.  Have  you  not  seen  your  mother  receiv- 
ing many  visitors,  also  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  father;  but  mamma  amuses  herself  with  them, 
and  is  taking  Ira  into  society.  But  what  are  visits  to  you? 
Are  you  amusing  yourself,  also  ?  " 

"  How  amuse  ?  "  laughed  Darvid,  "  they  annoy  me  of- 
tenest  of  all,  though  an  odd  time  they  give  me  pleasure." 

"  What  pleasure?  " 

"  You  do  not  understand  this  yet.  Eelations,  position  in 
the  world,  significance." 

"  What  do  you  want  of  significance,  father;  why  do  you 
wish  for  a  high  position  in  society?  What  profit  does  sig- 
nificance give?  Does  it  give  happiness?  See,  father,  I  know 
one  little  history — Miss  Mary's  father,  an  English  clergy- 
man, has  a  parish  in  a  poor,  far-away  corner,  where  there 
are  no  people  of  significance,  and  no  rich  men,  but  there 
are  many  poor  and  ignorant  people  there;  and  he  has  sig- 
nificance only  among  those  poor  people — that  is,  he  has  no 
significance  whatever,  still  he  is  so  happy,  and  all  those 
people  are  so  happy.  They  love  one  another,  and  live  to- 
gether. It  is  so  warm  and  bright  in  that  pastor's  house, 
there,  among  the  old  trees.  Miss  Mary  came  away  from 
there  to  get  a  little  money  for  her  youngest  sister,  whom 
she  loves  dearly.  She  lives  pleasantly  here,  but  she  yearns 
for  her  family,  and  has  told  me  so  much  of  them;   and 

66 


The  Argonauts 

some  time,  father,  I  will  beg  you  to  let  me  go  with  Miss 
Mary  to  England,  to  that  poor  country  parish,  and  see 
that  great,  warm,  bright  happiness  whieli  exists  in  it." 

Tears  glittered  like  diamonds  in  her  gleaming  eyes,  and 
Darvid,  with  his  arm  around  her  slender  waist,  stood 
silent,  in  deep  meditation.  That  child,  by  her  questions, 
had  let  his  thoughts  down,  as  if  by  a  string,  to  the 
bottom  of  things,  at  which  he  had  never  looked  before — 
he  had  had  no  time.  He  might  tell  her  that  high  signifi- 
cance in  the  world  tickles  vanity,  flatters  pride,  helps,  fre- 
quently, to  carry  business  to  a  profitable  conclusion — that 
is  to  pecuniary  profit.  He  might  confess  to  himself,  also, 
that  that  English  clergyman,  in  his  quiet  parsonage,  under 
his  ancient  trees,  seemed  to  him  a  very  happy  man  all  at 
once  in  that  moment.    After  a  while,  he  said: 

"It  must  be  so.  Happiness  and  unhappiness  are  one 
thing  for  poor  people,  and  another  for  the  rich." 

He  looked  at  the  clock. 

"  But  now " 

"  Now,  I  have  no  time!  "  laughed  Cara.  "  No,  no,  father, 
two  minutes  more,  a  minute  more — I  will  ask  about  some- 
thing else." 

"  You  will  ask  more! "  exclaimed  he,  with  such  a  laugh 
as  he  had  hardly  ever  given. 

"  Yes,  yes — something  even  more  important  than  the  last. 
I  am  troubled  about  it — it  pains  me  so " 

She  changed  from  foot  to  foot,  and  embraced  her  father 
with  all  her  strength,  as  if  fearing  that  he  might  run  away. 

"  Did  father  mean  really  to  say  that  one  should  not  uphold 
the  poor,  the  hungry,  the  sorrowful,  the  sad,  nor  comfort 
them;  that  it  is  only  necessary  to  leave  them  so  that  they 
may  die  as  soon  as  possible?  When  father  said  that  I 
felt  sick  in  some  way.    ]\Iannna  and  Ira  this  long  time  sup- 

67 


The  Argonauts 

port  two  old  men,  so  gray  and  nice,  whom  Miss  Mary  and  I 
visit  often.  Do  mamma  and  Ira  do  badly?  Should  we  let 
them  die  as  soon  as  possible  from  hunger?  Brrr!  it  is 
terrible!  Does  father  think  so  really,  or  did  he  only  say 
what  he  did  to  get  rid  of  those  gentlemen  the  more  quickly? 
Father  you  are  good,  the  best,  a  dear,  golden  father.  Do 
you  really  believe  what  you  said,  or  was  it  to  get  rid  of 
those  men  ?    I  beg  you  to  answer  me,  I  beg  you !  " 

This  time  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  face,  with  a  gleam 
which  was  almost  feverish,  and  again  he  stood  in  silence, 
filled  with  astonishment.  Why  could  his  mouth  not  open 
to  tell  that  girl  his  profoundest  conviction? 

With  all  the  wrinkles  between  his  brows,  he  said,  with- 
out a  smile: 

"  I  said  that  to  get  rid  of  them;  I  wished  to  be  rid  of  those 
gentlemen  as  quickly  as  possible." 

The  soles  of  Cara's  feet  struck  the  floor  time  after  time 
with  delight. 

"  Yes,  yes!  I  was  sure  of  that!  My  best,  dearest 
father " 

Stroking  her  hair,  he  added: 

"  We  must  be  kind.  Be  kind  always.  Keep  the  life  in 
gray-haired,  nice  old  men.  You  will  never  lack  money  for 
that." 

She  kissed  his  hands;  suddenly  her  glance  fell  on  her 
father's  desk,  and  she  cried: 

"Puffie!  Puffie!  where  have  you  climbed  to?  There 
you  are,  you  have  crawled  on  to  the  desk  and  done  so 
much  mischief ! " 

The  ash-colored  little  dog  was  on  the  great  desk  of  the 
celebrated  financier,  on  the  top  of  a  huge  pile  of  papers;  he 
was  sitting  with  his  nose  against  a  window  pane,  growling 
at  crows  that  were  flying  past  and  cawing.    In  that  study, 

68 


The  Argonauts 

which  was  so  dignified  as  to  be  almost  solemn,  Cara's  laugh- 
ter was  heard  in  silver  tones: 

"Look,  father,  how  angry  he  is!  He  is  angry  at  the 
crows!  Oh,  how  he  sticks  his  little  nose  up  when  one  of 
them  flies  past.    Do  you  see,  father?  " 

"I  see,  I  see!  Never  has  such  a  dignified  assistant 
been  in  charge  of  my  desk.    Oh,  you  little  one !  " 

He  put  his  arm  around  her  and  pressed  her  to  his  bosom, 
briefly,  but  heartily.  Through  his  head  passed  at  that  mo- 
ment the  recollection  of  something  unimportant  which  he 
had  seen  on  a  time:  a  golden  sunray,  which,  flashing  from 
behind  clouds,  had  torn  them  apart,  and  disclosed  a  strip 
of  clear  azure  beyond.  He  saw  this  through  a  window  of 
a  railroad  car,  mechanically,  as  we  see  things  to  which  we 
are  indifl^erent.    Now  he  remembered  it. 

"  The  carriage  is  ready! "  called  the  servant  from  the 
anteroom. 

"You  are  a  little  giddy-head,"  said  Darvid,  looking  at 
the  clock.  "  I  should  have  left  the  house  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  ago." 

She  ran  to  bring  his  hat,  and  gave  it  with  a  low  bow. 
Stooping  quickly  she  raised  a  glove  which  he  had  dropped. 

"  Don't  forget  to  leave  Puffie  here  to  keep  my  papers  in 
order! " 

With  this  jest  on  his  lips  he  went  to  the  antechamber, 
but,  while  putting  on  his  fur  and  descending  the  stairway, 
he  thought  of  the  auction,  where  he  was  to  buy  a  house 
sold  for  debt — an  excellent  investment. 

"Is  Pan  Maryan  at  home?"  asked  Darvid  of  the  Swiss 
at  the  street  door. 

The  Swiss  learned  from  servants  that  the  young  master 
was  sleeping  yet. 

"What  a  miserable  method  of  life!     I  must  put  a  curb 

69 


The  Argonauts 

on  this  wild  buck  immediately.  Well,  lack  of  time,  a  chronic 
lack  of  time !  " 

"  Quickly!  as  quickly  as  possible!  "  called  he  to  the  driver, 
while  entering  the  carriage. 

He  had  left  the  house  too  late,  his  daughter  had  broken 
in  on  him  with  her  twittering  and  fondling — but  she  is  a 
ray  of  sunlight! 

Cara  removed  Puff  from  her  father's  papers,  and,  putting 
him  on  her  breast,  almost  under  her  chin,  as  usual,  passed 
through  the  drawing-rooms  hurriedly.  She  was  late  for  her 
lessons  with  Miss  Mary.  In  one  of  the  drawing-rooms  she 
passed  Irene.  The  slow  promenade  of  the  tall  and  formal 
young  lady,  with  an  open  book  in  her  hand,  continued  yet. 
Cara,  while  passing,  and  without  stopping,  said,  with  evident 
gladsomeness: 

"  But  I  talked  long  with  father  to-day,  long." 

"You  have  done  that  trick!"  answered  Irene,  indiffer- 
ently. 

Cara  stopped  as  if  fixed  to  the  floor.  In  the  careless  voice 
of  her  sister  she  heard  irony;  she  seemed  ready  for  conflict; 
her  brows  contracted  suddenly;  her  eyes  were  full  of  sparks. 
But  Irene,  absorbed  in  reading,  was  already  a  good  number 
of  steps  away.  After  a  few  seconds,  Cara  vanished  behind 
the  door  of  her  own  room  and  Miss  Mary's. 

Irene's  features,  rather  meagre  and  elongated,  continued 
motionless;  her  paleness  increased  their  formality.  But  as 
time  passed,  weariness  settled  the  more  deeply  on  her  droop- 
ing eyelids.  Whenever  she  passed  a  window  of  the  draw- 
ing-rooms, the  pin  in  her  hair  cast  quick,  sharp  gleams  in 
the  sunlight. 

At  last  the  door  of  Malvina's  room  opened  and  out  came 
Kranitski,  quite  different  from  what  he  had  been  at  liis  ar- 
rival.   His  shoulders  were  bent;  his  head  drooping;  on  his 

70 


The  Argonauts 

cheeks  were  red  spots;  his  forehead  was  greatly  wrinkled. 
He  looked  as  though  he  had  heen  weeping  a  moment  before. 
Even  his  mustaches  were  hanging  in  woefulness  over  his 
carefully  shaven  chin.  Irene  stopped,  and  with  the  book 
in  her  two  hands,  which  she  had  dropped,  gazed  at  the 
man  approaching  her.  He  hastened  his  step,  took  her 
hand,  and  said  in  a  low  voice  and  hurriedly: 

"  I  am  the  most  wretched  of  beings!  I  was  not  worthy  of 
such  great  happiness  as — as — your  mother's  friendship,  so 
I  lose  it.  Je  suis  fini,  compUtenient  et  cruellement  fini.  I 
take  farewell  of  you,  Panna  Irene — so  many  years!  so  many 
years !  I  loved  you  all  so  greatly,  so  heartily.  Some  people 
call  me  a  romantic  old  dreamer.  I  am.  I  suffer.  Je  souffre 
JiorribUment.  I  wish  you  every  happiness.  Perhaps,  we 
may  never  meet  again.  Perhaps,  I  shall  go  to  the  country. 
I  take  farewell  of  you.    So  many,  so  many  years!    0  Dieul  " 

His  eyelids  were  red;  he  was  bent  more  than  ever  as  he 
passed  out.     On  Irene's  face  great  alarm  appeared. 

"  It  is  true,  then.  It  is  true!  "  whispered  she.  Springing 
forward  like  a  bird  she  passed  through  the  drawing-room, 
quickly  and  silently.  Invisible  wings  bore  her  toward  the 
closed  door  of  her  mother's  room;  when  entering,  her  man- 
ner was  calm  and  distinguished,  as  usual,  but  her  eyes,  in 
which  there  was  anxious  concern,  beheld  the  form  of  a 
woman  lying  in  a  deep  armchair,  her  face  covered  with  her 
hands.  Malvina  was  weeping  in  silence;  her  sobs  gave  out 
no  sound,  they  merely  shook  her  shoulders  at  regular  in- 
tervals. These  shoulders  were  drooping  forward,  and  it 
seemed  as  though  an  unseen  weight  were  crushing  them  to 
the  earth  and  would  crush  them  down  through  it. 

Irene  hurried,  silently;  brought  a  vial  from  the  adjoining 
bedchamber,  ])oured  some  liquid  on  licr  palm,  and  touched 
her  mother's  forehead  and  temples  with  it,  delicately.    Mal- 

71 


The  Argonauts 

vina  raised  her  face,  which  was  deeply  agitated  by  an  ex- 
pression of  dread.  At  that  instant  one  might  have  thought 
the  woman  feared  her  daughter.  But  Irene,  in  her  usual 
calm  voice,  said: 

"  Insomnia  always  harms  you,  mamma.  Again  you  have 
that  horri'~  neuralgia! " 

"  Yes,  I  feel  a  little  ill,"  answered  Malvina  in  a  weak 
voice. 

She  rose,  and  tried  to  smile  at  Irene,  but  her  pale  lips 
merely  quivered,  and  her  eyelids  drooped;  they  were  swollen 
from  weeping.  With  a  step  which  she  strove  to  make  firm 
and  steady  she  went  toward  her  bedroom. 

Irene  followed  some  steps  behind. 

"Mamma?" 

"What,  my  child?" 

Irene's  lips  opened  and  closed  repeatedly;  it  seemed  as 
though  some  cry  would  come  from  them,  but  she  only  said 
in  low  tones: 

"  A  little  wine  or  bouillon  might  be  brought?  " 

Malvina  shook  her  head,  advanced  some  steps,  looked 
around: 

"  Ira! " 

The  daughter  stood  before  her  mother,  but  now  Malvina 
in  her  turn  was  speechless.  She  inclined  her  forehead,  which 
covered  slowly  with  a  blush;  at  last  she  inquired  in  a  low 
voice: 

"  Is  your  father  at  home?  " 

"  I  heard  him  drive  away  some  moments  ago." 

"  On  his  return,  should  he  wish  to  see  me,  say  that  I  am 
waiting  for  him." 

"  Very  well,  mamma." 

In  the  door  she  turned  again: 

"  Should  someone  else  come — I  cannot " 

73 


I 


The  Argonauts 

Irene  halted  a  number  of  steps  from  her  mother  in  the 
formal  posture  of  a  society  young  lady,  and  said: 

"  Be  at  rest,  mamma;  I  shall  not  go  a  step  away,  and  I 
shall  not  let  anyone  interrupt  you.  Not  even  father  if  you 
wish — perhaps  to-morrow  would  be  better?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no! "  cried  Malvina,  with  sudden  animation. 
"  On  the  contrary,  as  soon  as  possible — beg  your  father  to 
come,  and  let  me  know  at  the  earliest." 

"  Very  well,  mamma." 

Malvina  closed  the  bedroom  door,  advanced  a  few  steps, 
and  fell  on  her  knees  at  her  richly  covered  bed.  Amid  fur- 
niture, finished  in  yellow  damask,  on  a  downy  bed,  cov- 
ered with  cambric  and  lace,  she  raised  her  clasped  hands, 
and  said,  in  whispers  broken  with  sobs: 

"  0  God!    0  God!    0  God!  " 

She  was  of  those  weak  beings  who  to  live  need  heart- 
felt love  as  much  as  air,  and  who  are  infected  by  this  love 
without  power  of  resisting  it.  To  such  a  love  had  she 
yielded  once  in  the  chill  and  emptiness  of  rich  drawing- 
rooms.  That  was  a  happening  of  long  ago;  she  was  the 
weaker  at  that  time  because  she  was  caught  by  a  breeze 
from  the  spring  of  her  life,  passed  in  the  company  of  that 
man  who  was  casting  himself  at  her  feet  then.  In  that 
moment  of  yielding  a  pebble  had  dropped  on  her,  the 
weight  of  which  increased  with  the  course  of  years  and 
the  growth  of  her  children.  She  had  not  thought  for  an 
instant  that  she  was  the  heroine  of  a  drama.  On  the  con- 
trary, she  repeated,  with  a  face  always  blushing  from  shame: 
"W^eak!  weak!  weak!"  and,  from  a  time  rather  remote, 
it  was  joined  with  another  word,  "  Guilty."  She  was  weak, 
still  to-day  she  had  found  strength  at  last  to  cut  one  of  those 
knots  in  which  her  life  had  been  involved  so  repulsively. 
Oh,  that  the  other  might  be  torn  apart  quickly;   then  she 

73 


The  Argonauts 

could  go  far  from  the  world  into  lone  obscurity,  an  abyss 
occupied  only  by  her  endless  penitence.  In  her  head  a 
plan  had  matured.  She  wished  to  speak  with  Darvid  as 
soon  as  possible,  and  she  doubted  not  that  in  the  near 
future  he  would  agree  with  her.  Her  daughters  ?  Well, 
was  it  not  better  that  such  a  mother  should  leave  them, 
vanish  from  their  eyes? 

Irene  pushed  to  the  window  a  small  table,  on  which  were 
painting  materials;  she  took  her  place  at  the  table,  and  with 
fixed  attention  in  her  eyes  began  to  outline  a  cluster  of  beau- 
tiful flowers.  They  were  chrysanthemums,  and  seemed  to 
be  opening  their  snowy  and  fiery  petals  to  mystic  kisses. 
Deep  silence  reigned  in  the  mansion,  and  only  after  a  cer- 
tain time  had  passed  did  the  sound  of  glasses  and  porcelain 
come  from  a  remote  apartment,  and  at  the  door  of  the  study 
a  servant  appeared,  announcing  that  lunch  was  served. 
Irene  raised  her  head  from  her  work: 

"  Tell  Panna  Caroline  and  Miss  Mary  that  mamma  and  I 
will  not  come  to  the  table." 

She  added  a  command  to  bring  two  cups  of  bouillon  and 
some  rusks.  A  while  later  she  stood  with  a  cup  in  her  hand 
at  her  mother's  door. 

"  May  I  come  in?  " 

She  held  her  ear  to  the  door;  there  was  no  answer.  Her 
lids  blinked  anxiously;  she  repeated  the  question,  adding: 

"  Mamma,  I  beg " 

"  Come  in,  Ira!  " 

Covered  with  silken  materials  Malvina  was  like  a  glitter- 
ing wave  on  the  bed.  Irene  entered  with  the  bouillon  and 
the  rusks,  then  slipped  through  the  room  quietly  and  let 
down  the  shades.    A  mild  half-gloom  filled  the  chamber. 

"  This  is  better.  Light  when  one  has  the  headache  is 
hurtful."     She  went  to  the  bed.     "You  cannot  sleep  in 

74 


The  Argonauts 

these  tight  boots,  try  as  you  like,  and  without  some  hours 
of  sleep  the  neuralgia  will  not  leave  you." 

Before  these  words  were  finished,  her  slender  hands  had 
changed  the  tight  boots  for  roomy  and  soft  ones.  She  bent 
down,  and  with  a  touch  of  her  fingers  unfastened  a  number 
of  hooks  at  her  mother's  breast. 

"  Now,  it  will  be  well!  "  Irene  dropped  her  arms  on  her 
dress  and  smiled  a  little.  Despite  her  fashionable  robe  and 
fantastic  hairdressing  there  was  in  her  at  that  moment  some- 
thing of  the  sister  of  charity,  she  seemed  painstaking  and 
cautious. 

"  And  now,  mamma,  be  a  little  glutton,"  added  she  with 
a  smile;  "  you  will  drink  the  bouillon  and  eat  the  rusk;  I 
will  go  to  paint  my  chrysanthemums." 

She  was  at  the  door  when  she  heard  the  call: 

"  Ira!  " 

"  What,  mamma?  " 

Two  arms  stretched  toward  her,  and  surrounded  her  neck; 
and  lips,  so  feverish  that  they  burnt,  covered  her  forehead 
and  face  with  kisses.  Irene  in  return  pressed  her  lips  to  her 
mother's  forehead  and  hand,  but  for  a  few  seconds  only, 
then  she  withdrew  from  the  embrace  with  a  gentle  move- 
ment, moved  away  somewhat,  and  said: 

"  Be  not  excited,  for  that  may  increase  the  neuralgia." 

At  the  door  she  turned  again: 

"  Should  anything  be  needed,  just  whisper;  you  know 
what  delicate  hearing  I  have;  I  shall  hear.  I  shall  be  paint- 
ing in  your  study.  Those  chrysanthemums  are  beautiful, 
and  I  have  a  new  idea  about  them  which  interests  me 
greatly." 

In  the  tempered  winter  light  from  the  window,  in  that 
study  full  of  gilding,  artistic  trifles,  syringas,  and  hya- 
cinths, Irene  sat  at  the  table  with  painting  utensils,  sunk 

75 


The  Argonauts 

in  thought  and  idle.  From  beneath  her  brows,  which  had 
each  the  outline  of  a  delicate  little  flame,  her  fixed  eyes 
turned  toward  the  past.  She  had  in  mind  a  time  when  she 
was  ten  years  old,  and  was  fitting  a  new  dress  on  her  doll 
with  immense  interest.  At  first  she  did  not  turn  attention 
to  her  parents'  conversation  in  the  next  chamber,  but  after- 
ward, when  the  dress  was  fitted  to  the  doll  as  if  melted 
around  it,  she  raised  her  head,  and  through  the  open  door 
began  to  look  and  listen.  Her  father,  with  a  jesting  smile, 
was  sitting  in  an  armchair;  her  mother,  in  a  white  gown, 
was  standing  before  him,  with  such  an  expression  in  her 
eyes  as  if  she  were  praying  for  salvation. 

"Aloysius!"  said  she,  "have  we  not  enough?  Is  there 
nothing  in  the  world  except  property  and  profits — this 
golden  idol?  " 

"  I  beg  you  to  consider  that  there  is  something  else,"  in- 
terrupted he,  with  a  shght  hiss  of  irony;  "  this  luxury  which 
surrounds  you  and  becomes  you  so  well." 

Then  she  seated  herself  opposite  him,  and,  bending  for- 
ward, spoke  somewhat  quickly,  disconnectedly: 

"  Do  we  live  with  each  other?  We  do  not  by  any  means. 
We  only  see  each  other.  There  is  nothing  in  common  be- 
tween us.  You  are  swallowed  up  by  business,  I  by  society. 
I  have  taken  a  fancy,  it  is  true,  for  amusement,  but  in  the 
depth  of  my  heart  I  am  often  very  gloomy.  I  feel  lonely. 
My  early  life,  as  you  know,  was  modest,  poor,  toilsome,  and 
often  it  calls  to  me  reproachfully.  You  do  not  know  of 
this,  for  we  have  no  time  to  exchange  ideas.  I  am  of  those 
women  who  need  to  feel  guardianship,  to  have  near  them 
an  ear  which  might  listen  to  their  hearts,  and  a  mind  which 
would  direct  their  conscience.  I  am  weak.  I  am  full  of 
dread.  I  fear  that  in  view  of  your  frequent,  almost  con- 
tinual absence,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  rear  the  children  prop- 

76 


The  Argonauts 

erly.  I  only  know  how  to  love  them,  I  would  give  my  life 
for  them,  but  I  am  weak.  I  beg  you  not  to  leave  me  and 
them  so  frequently;  that  is,  almost  continuously — rather 
let  this  luxury  decrease — I  shall  be  glad,  even,  for  the  de- 
crease will  bring  us  nearer  together.    I  beg  you!  " 

She  seized  his  hands,  and  it  seemed  as  though  she  kissed 
them;  but  it  was  certain  that  the  pale,  golden  wave  of  her 
dishevelled  hair  fell  on  them.  Irene,  though  she  was  only 
ten  years  old  then,  felt  pity  for  her  mother,  and  waited  with 
intense  curiosity  for  her  father's  answer. 

"  What  do  you  wish  in  particular?  "  asked  he.  "  I  listen, 
I  listen,  still  I  do  not  know  exactly  what  the  question  is. 
Is  it  this,  that  I  should  stop  work,  which  I  love  and  which 
succeeds  with  me  ?  You  must  be  in  a  waking  dream.  Those 
are  ideas  from  another  society,  mere  childish  fancies." 

Here  Irene's  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  Cara. 

"  Ira,  is  mamma  sick,  since  she  did  not  come  to 
luncheon?  " 

"  Mamma  has  neuralgia  often;  you  know  that  well." 

Cara  turned  to  the  door  of  her  mother's  bedroom,  but 
Irene  stopped  her. 

"  Do  not  go;  she  may  be  sleeping." 

The  girl  approached  her  sister: 

"  It  seems  to  me "  she  whispered  and  stopped. 

"  What  seems  to  you  a  second  time?  " 

"  That  there  is  something  going  on  in  this  house " 

Irene  frowned. 

"  What  an  imagination  you  have!  You  are  ever  imagin- 
ing something  uncommon.  Now  all  these  uncommon  things 
are  painted  pots,  or  illusions.  Life  rolls  on  always  in  a  com- 
mon, prosaic  movement.  Stop  making  painted  pots,  and  go 
out  to  walk  with  Puff  and  Miss  Mary." 

77 


The  Argonauts 

Cara  listened  attentively,  but  with  an  incredulous  ex- 
jDression  of  eyes,  which  were  fixed  on  her  sister's  face. 

"  Very  well,  I  will  go  to  walk,  but  what  you  have  said 
is  not  true,  Ira.  It  is  not  painted  pots  that  mamma  is  suf- 
fering and  sick,  that  father  goes  out  to  dine  for  a  whole 
week,  and  does  not  come  to  her  at  all;  even  that — man, 
going  out  to-day,  began  to  cry  in  the  antechamber — I  saw 
him  by  chance — he  wanted  to  say  something  to  me,  but  I 
ran  away " 

Irene  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  You  will  be  a  poetess,  perhaps,  you  exaggerate  every- 
thing so  terribly.  Mamma  is  not  troubled,  she  only  has 
neuralgia.  Father  does  not  dine  with  us  because  he  has  so 
many  invitations,  and  Pan  Kranitski  struck  his  nose  against 
something  which  you,  in  poetic  imagination,  took  for  cry- 
ing. Men  never  cry,  and  sensible  girls,  instead  of  filling 
their  heads  with  painted  pots,  go  to  walk  while  good  weather 
lasts  and  the  sun  shines.  The  doctor  tells  you  to  walk  every 
day,  not  in  the  evening,  but  abou^  this  hour." 

"  I  am  going,  I  am  going!    You  drive  me  away!  " 

She  went  on  a  number  of  steps,  and  turned  again  toward 
her  L;ister: 

"Father  is  angry  at  Maryan — I  see  that  very  clearly. 
Everything  in  this  house  is,  somehow,  so  strange." 

She  went  out,  but  Irene  clasped  her  hands,  and  for  some 
seconds  squeezed  them  with  all  her  might,  and  thought: 

"  That  child  will  soon  look  at  life  Just  as  I  have  been 
looking  at  it  for  some  time  past.  It  is  necessary  to  foresee, 
absolutely  necessary!  "  She  returned  to  her  reminiscences. 
Her  mother  said  to  her  father: 

"  Our  fortune  is  now  considerable." 

"  In  that  direction,"  answered  her  father,  "  it  never  can 
be  too  great,  nor  even  sufficient." 

78 


The  Argonauts 

Then,  playing  with  her  beautiful  hair,  he  asked: 

"  But  do  you  believe  that  I  love  you?  " 

After  some  hesitation  she  answered: 

"  N"o.    I  have  lost  that  faith,  I  lost  it  some  time  ago." 

Later  there  were  many  other  words,  some  of  which 
Irene  remembered: 

"  The  very  best  guardianship  in  this  world,"  said  her 
father,  "  is  wealth.  Whoso  has  that  will  never  lack  mind, 
even ;  since,  in  case  of  need,  he  can  buy  mind  from  other 
men. 

"  In  the  training  of  our  children  you  will  expend  all  that 
is  requisite.  You  will  rear  for  me  our  daughters  to  be  grand 
ladies;  will  you  not?  Educate  them  so  that  when  mature 
they  may  feel  as  much  at  home  in  the  highest  social  circles  as 
in  their  own  father's  household.  As  to  you,  amuse  your- 
self, make  connections,  dress,  be  brilliant.  The  more  you 
elevate  the  name  which  you  bear,  by  beauty,  wit,  knowl- 
edge of  life,  the  more  service  will  you  render  me  in  re- 
turn for  the  services  which  I  render  you.  Besides,  if  you 
have  any  difficulty  with  the  house,  with  teachers,  with 
social  relations,  you  have  that  honest  Kranitski,  who  will 
serve  you  with  great  good  will.  I  am  very  much  pleased 
with  that  acquaintance.  Just  such  a  man  did  I  need.  He 
has  extensive  and  very  good  connections;  he  is  perfectly 
well-bred,  obliging,  polite.  Foreseeing  that  he  might  be 
very  useful  to  us,  I  became  familiar  with  him.  It  is  true 
that  he  has  borrowed  money  a  number  of  times  of  me, 
but  he  has  rendered  a  number  of  services.  Pay  in  return 
for  value,  that  is  the  best  method." 

He  walked  up  and  down  through  the  room  repeatedly; 
on  his  forehead,  in  his  look,  in  his  movements,  he  had  an 
expression  of  perfect  confidence  in  himself,  his  rights,  and 
his  reason.  Suddenly,  turning  toward  the  door  of  remoter 
rooms,  he  cried  with  delight: 

79 


The  Argonauts 

"  Speak  of  the  wolf,  and  he  is  before  you !  I  greet  you, 
dear  sir." 

With  these  words  he  extended  his  hand  to  the  guest  who 
was  entering.  This  was  Kranitski,  at  that  time  in  his  high- 
est manly  beauty;  petted,  and  a  favorite  in  the  best  social 
circles  because  of  it,  and  for  other  reasons  also. 

He  gave  a  hearty  greeting  of  Darvid,  who  met  him  with 
delight,  and  then  he  stood  before  Malvina  in  such  a 
posture,  and  with  such  an  expression  on  his  face,  as  if 
he  desired  only  one  thing  on  earth,  to  be  able  to  drop 
on  his  knees  before  her. 

That  conversation  and  scene  remained  fixed  in  Irene's 
memory.  She  drew  from  it  formerly,  extensive  conclusions, 
then  she  ceased  altogether  to  recall  it;  now  she  thought 
again  of  it,  forgetting  her  painted  chrysanthemums,  which, 
on  the  blue  satin,  seemed  to  gaze  at  her,  having  as  subtle 
and  enigmatical  a  look  as  she  herself  had. 

A  servant  at  the  door  announced:  "  Baron  Emil  Blauen- 
dorf ! " 

"  Not  at  ho — "  began  she  at  once;  but,  halting,  instructed 
the  servant  to  ask  him  to  wait.  At  her  mother's  desk  she 
wrote  on  a  narrow  card  of  Bristol-board,  in  English: 

"  Mamma  is  ill  with  neuralgia;  I  am  nursing  her,  and 
cannot  see  you  to-day.  I  regret  this,  for  the  talk  about  dis- 
sonances began  to  be  interesting.  Bring  me  the  continua- 
tion of  it  to-morrow! " 

She  gave  this  card,  in  an  envelope  addressed  to  the  baron, 
to  a  servant,  and  sat  down  again  to  her  chrysanthemums, 
this  time  with  a  smile  both  malicious  and  gladsome.  With 
his  appearance  in  that  house,  though  unseen  by  her,  Baron 
Emil  had  lent  form  in  her  head  to  a  certain  whimsical  idea. 
She  knew  that  it  was  whimsical,  but  Just  for  that  reason  it 
pleased  her,  and  must  also  please  the  baron.  She  began 
quickly,  almost  with  enthusiasm,  to  paint  dark  outlines  of 

80 


The  Argonauts 

imps  among  the  flowers.  She  disposed  them  so  that  they 
seemed  to  separate  the  flowers  and  keep  them  apart  from 
one  another.  Some  imps  were  climbing  up,  others  were 
slipping  down;  they  peeped  out  from  behind  petals,  climbed 
along  stems,  but  all  were  malicious,  distorted,  capricious,  and 
pushed  the  tops  of  the  flowers  apart  in  such  fashion  that 
they  did  not  let  the  half-bending  petals  meet  in  kisses. 
Painting  quickly,  Irene  laughed.  She  imagined  Baron  Emil 
saying  at  sight  of  this  work:  "  C'est  du  nouveau!  It  is 
not  a  painted  pot!  it  is  an  individual  thought.  There  is  a 
new  quiver  there.    It  bites." 

The  expressions  "painted  pots,"  "Arcadians,"  "it 
bites,"  "  new  quivers,"  "  rheumatism  of  thought,"  and 
many  more  she  had  from  him.  And  she  was  not  the  only 
one  who  borrowed.  These  expressions  had  spread  in  a 
rather  large  circle  of  people  who  despised  everything 
existing,  and  were  seeking  everything  which  was  new  and 
astonishing.  Baron  Emil  was  cultured,  had  read  much. 
He  read  frequently  Nietsche's  "  Zarathustra,"  and  spoke 
of  the  coming  "  race,"  the  superhumans.  He  spoke  some- 
what through  his  nose  and  through  his  teeth. 

The  superhuman  is  he  who  is  able  to  will  absolutely 
and  unconditionally. 

When  Irene  thought  that  perhaps  she  would  soon  be- 
come the  baron's  wife,  and  leave  that  house,  her  brows  con- 
tracted and  her  jeering  smile  vanished.  Oh,  she  would  not 
let  him  escape  her !  She  had  an  absolute  condition  to  put 
before  the  baron;  he  would  accept  it  most  assuredly, 
through  deference  to  the  amount  of  her  dower.  Energy 
glittered  in  her  blue  eyes.  She  turned  her  face  toward 
the  door  of  her  mother's  room  with  so  quick  a  movement 
that  the  metallic  pin  in  her  hair  cast  a  gleam  of  sharp 
steel  above  her  head. 

"'One  must  know  how  to  will,"  v.'hispered  she. 

81 


CHAPTER  IV. 

When  Kranitski  entered  his  own  lodgings,  after  passing 
the  night  with  Maryan,  and  after  the  long  conversation  with 
Malvina,  old  widow  Clemens  looked  at  him  from  behind 
her  great  spectacles,  and  dropped  her  hands : 

"  Are  you  sick,  or  what?  x\rabian  adventure!  Ah,  what 
a  look  you  have!  What  has  happened?  Maybe  those 
pains  have  come;  you  have  had  them  a  number  of  times 
already.  Why  not  take  off  your  fur?  Wait!  I  will  help 
you  this  minute.  Oh,  you  will  be  sick  in  addition  to  every- 
thing else." 

She  was  a  squatty  woman,  heavy,  with  a  striped  kerchief 
on  her  shoulders,  and  wearing  a  short  skirt,  from  under 
which  appeared  flat  feet  in  tattered  overshoes.  She  was 
seventy  years  old,  at  least;  her  large,  sallow  face  was  much 
withered.  Bordered  by  gray  hair  and  a  white  cap  that  face 
was  bright  with  the  gleam  of  dark  eyes,  still  riery,  and 
quickly  glancing  from  under  a  wrinkled,  high  forehead. 
Her  whole  figure  had  in  it  something  of  the  fields,  some- 
thing primitive,  which  seemed  not  to  have  the  least  rela- 
tion to  that  little  drawing-room  and  its  owner.  That  room 
contained  everything  which  is  found  usually  in  such  apart- 
ments, therefore:  a  sofa,  armchairs,  a  table,  a  mirror  with 
a  console,  a  low  and  broad  ottoman  with  cushions  in  Oriental 
fashion,  porcelain  figures  on  the  console,  old-fashioned 
shelves  with  books  in  nice  bindings,  a  few  oil  paintings, 
small  but  neat,  on  the  walls,  a  number  of  photographs,  taste- 
fully grouped  above  the  ottoman,  a  large  album  on  the  table 

83 


The  Argonauts 

before  the  sofa.  But  all  this  was  a  collection  brought  to- 
gether at  various  seasons,  and  injured  by  time.  The  cover- 
ing of  the  cushions  had  faded,  the  gilding  on  the  mirror- 
frame  was  worn  here  and  there,  the  leather  covering  on  the 
furniture  was  worn  and  showed  through  cracks  the  stuffing 
within,  the  album  was  torn,  the  porcelain  base  of  the  lamp 
was  broken.  At  the  first  cast  of  the  eye  the  little  drawing- 
room  seemed  elegant,  but  after  a  while,  through  spots  and 
rents  mended  carefully,  want  was  observed  creeping  forth. 
This  want  was  hidden  chiefly  by  perfect  and  minute  clean- 
liness, in  which  one  could  recognize  active,  careful  hands, 
industrious,  untiring  sweeping  out,  rubbing  out,  sewing, 
mending — those  were  the  lean,  aged  hands,  with  broad 
palms  and  short  fingers,  which  were  now  helping  Kranitski 
to  remove  his  fur  coat.  Meanwhile,  a  scolding,  harsh  voice, 
with  tenderness  at  the  base  of  it,  continued: 

"  Again  a  night  passed  away  from  home.  Surely  off 
there  with  cards,  or  with  madams  of  some  sort!  Oi,  an 
offense  against  God !  And  this  time  you  come  home  sick. 
I  see  that  you  are  sick,  your  whole  face  is  covered  with 
red  spots,  you  are  hardly  able  to  stand  on  your  feet. 
Arabian  adventure ! " 

"Give  me  rest!^'  answered  Kranitski  in  a  complaining 
voice.  "  I  am  sick,  the  most  wretched  of  men.  Every- 
thing is  past  for  me — I  beg  you  to  look  to  the  door,  so  that 
no  one  may  enter;  I  am  suffering  too  much  to  let  in  im- 
pertinent people." 

There  were  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  his  appearance  was 
wretched.  No  one  was  looking  at  him  then,  except  his  old 
servant,  who  was  as  faithful  as  a  dog,  so  he  let  the  fetters  of 
artificial  youth  and  elegance  drop  from  him.  His  shoulders 
were  bent,  his  cheeks  pendant,  above  his  brows  were  red 
spots  and  thick  wrinkles.     He  vanished  then  beyond  the 

83 


The  Argonauts 

half-closed  door  of  his  hedroom,  and  widow  Clemens  went 
back  to  the  work  interrupted  by  his  coming.  In  the  middle 
of  the  drawing-room,  on  an  open  card-table,  lay,  spread  out, 
a  dressing  gown  of  Turkish  stuff.  That  gown,  beautiful  on  a 
time,  was  then  faded;  moreover,  its  lining  was  torn.  Widow 
Clemens  while  repairing  that  lining  and  patching  it  had 
been  interrupted  by  Kranitski's  return;  and  now,  wearing 
great  steel-rimmed  glasses,  and  with  a  brass  thimble  on  her 
middle  finger,  she  sat  down  again.  She  examined  a  rent 
through  which  wadding  peeped  out  on  the  world,  cautiously. 
But  in  spite  of  her  attention  fixed  on  the  work  she  whispered, 
or  rather  talked  on  in  a  low  and  monotonous  mutter: 

"  '  Look  to  the  door,  let  no  one  in! '  As  if  anyone  ever 
comes  here.  Long  ago,  comrades  and  various  protectors  used 
to  come;  they  came  often  at  first,  afterward  very  seldom; 
but  now  it  is  perhaps  two  years  since  even  a  dog  has  looked 
in  here.  He  could  not  bear  impertinent  people.  Oh,  yes! 
they  come  here,  many  of  them,  princes,  counts,  various  rich 
persons.  Oh,  yes!  while  he  was  a  novelty  and  brilliant 
they  amused  themselves  with  him  as  they  would  with  a 
shining  button,  but  when  the  button  was  rubbed  and  dull 
they  threw  it  into  a  corner.  The  relations,  the  friends, 
the  companions !    Arabian  adventure !    Oh,  this  society !  " 

She  was  silent  a  while,  put  a  piece  of  carefully  fitted  ma- 
terial on  the  rent,  raised  her  hand  a  number  of  times  with 
the  long  thread,  and  again  muttered: 

"But  is  that  society?  It  is  sin,  not  society!  Roll  in 
sin,  like  the  devil  in  pitch,  and  then  scream  that  it  burns ! 
Oi,  Oi!" 

Silence  reigned  in  the  room;  only  the  clock,  that  unavoid- 
able dweller  in  all  houses,  that  comrade  of  all  people,  ticked 
monotonously  on  the  shelf,  beneath  the  mirror,  among  the 
porcelain  figures.    Widow  Clemens,  while  sewing,  industri- 

84 


The  Argonauts 

ously,  muttered  on.  Her  unbroken  loneliness,  the  store  of 
thoughts  put  away  in  her  old  head,  and  the  care  in  her 
heart  had  given  her  the  habit  of  soliloquy. 

"  And  it  will  be  worse  yet.  He  has  debts  beyond  calcula- 
tion. He  will  die  on  a  litter  of  straw,  or  in  a  hospital.  Oh, 
if  his  dead  mother  could  see  this!  Arabian  adventure!  Un- 
less Stefanek  and  I  drag  him  out  of  this  pit!  " 

She  stopped  sewing  and  raised  her  spectacles  to  her  fore- 
head, their  glass  eyes  gleamed  above  her  gray  brows,  and 
she  fell  into  deep  thought.  She  moved  her  lips  from  time 
to  time,  but  did  not  mutter.  By  this  movement  of  the  lips, 
and  by  her  wrinkles,  it  could  be  seen  that  she  was  forming 
some  plan,  that  she  was  imagining.  Just  then  Kranitski's 
voice  was  heard  from  the  bedroom. 

She  sprang  up  with  the  liveliness  of  twenty  years,  and, 
with  a  loud  clattering  of  old  overshoes,  ran  to  the  door. 

"  Give  me  the  dressing-gown,  mother;  I  am  not  well;  I 
will  not  go  anywhere  to-day." 

"  Here  is  the  dressing-gown;  but  if  the  lining  is  torn?  " 

"  Torn  or  not,  give  it  here,  and  my  slippers,  too;  for  I 
am  not  well." 

*'  Here  they  are!  Not  well?  I  have  said  not  well!  0 
beloved  God,  what  will  come  of  this?  " 

But,  while  helping  him  to  put  on  the  dressing-gown,  she 
inquired,  with  incredulity: 

"  Is  it  true,  or  a  joke,  that  you  will  not  leave  the  house 
to-day?" 

"A  joke!"  answered  he  in  bitterness.  "H  you  knew 
what  a  joke  this  is!  I  will  not  leave  the  house  to-day,  or 
to-morrow,  or  perhaps  ever.  I  will  lie  here  and  grieve  till 
I  grieve  to  death.     Oh,  that  it  might  be  very  soon!  " 

"  Arabian  adventure!  Never  has  it  been  like  this!  It  is 
easy  to  see  that  the  pitch  has  burnt!  "  whispered  widow 
Clemens  to  herself.    But  aloud  she  said: 

86 


The  Argonauts 

"  Before  you  grieve  to  death  we  must  get  you  some  dinner. 
I  will  run  to  the  town  for  meat.  I  will  lock  the  door  out- 
side, so  that  impertinent  counts,  and  various  barons  should 
not  burst  in,"  added  she,  ironically. 

Kranitski,  left  alone,  locked  up  in  his  lodgings,  robed  in 
his  dressing-gown,  once  costly,  now  faded,  its  sleeves  tat- 
tered at  the  wrists,  lay  on  the  long-chair  in  front  of  his 
collection  of  pipes,  arranged  on  the  wall  cunningly.  In  the 
society  in  which  he  moved  collecting  was  universal.  They 
collected  pictures,  miniatures,  engravings,  autographs,  porce- 
lain, old  books,  old  spoons,  old  stuffs.  Kranitski  collected 
pipes.  Some  he  had  bought,  but  the  greater  number,  by 
far,  he  had  received  on  anniversaries  of  his  name's-day, 
in  proof  of  friendly  recollection,  and  as  keepsakes  after 
a  journey.  During  years  many  were  collected,  about  a 
hundred;  among  them  some  were  valuable,  some  poor 
but  original,  some  even  ridiculous,  some  immense  in  size, 
some  small,  some  bright  colored,  some  almost  black;  they 
were  arranged  on  shelves  at  the  wall  with  taste,  and  effec- 
tively. 

Besides  these  pipes  there  were  in  the  bed-room  other  ob- 
jects of  value:  a  writing-desk  of  peculiar  wood,  a  porcelain 
frame,  with  Cupids  at  the  top,  surrounding  an  oval  mirror, 
at  which  were  bottles,  vials,  toilet  boxes,  and  a  rather  long 
cigarette-case  of  pure  gold,  which  Kranitski  kept  with  him 
at  all  times,  and  which,  as  he  lay  now  in  the  long-chair,  he 
turned  in  his  fingers,  mechanically.  This  cigarette-case  was 
a  precious  memento.  He  had  received  it  soon  after  his 
arrival  in  the  city,  twenty  and  some  years  before,  from 
Countess  Eugenia,  his  mother's  aunt.  From  their  first  meet- 
ing the  countess  was  simply  wild  about  him.  Society  even 
insisted,  notwithstanding  her  more  than  ripe  years,  that  she 
was  madly  in  love  with  that  uncommonly  beautiful  and 

86 


The  Argonauts 

blooming  young  man,  who  had  been  reared  by  his  mother 
with  immense  care,  and  trained  to  appear  successfully  in 
that  society  to  which  she  had  been  born.  Kranitski's 
mother,  through  various  causes,  had  become  the  victim  of 
a  mesalliance;  she  grieved  out,  and  wept  away  secretly;  her 
life,  in  a  village  corner,  after  marrying  a  noble  who  was 
perfectly  honorable,  but  neither  a  man  of  the  world,  nor 
the  owner  of  much  property.  She  desired  for  her  only  son 
a  better  fate  than  she  herself  had  had,  and  prepared  him 
for  it  long  beforehand.  He  spoke  French  with  a  Parisian 
accent,  and  English  quite  well;  he  was  versed  in  the  litera- 
tures of  Western  Europe;  he  was  a  famous  dancer;  he  was 
obliging;  he  had  an  inborn  instinct  of  kindness  toward  peo- 
ple; he  was  popular,  sought  after,  petted;  when  the  money 
with  which  his  mother  furnished  him  proved  insufficient  he 
obtained  a  small  office,  through  the  influence  of  wealthy 
relatives,  which,  besides  increasing  his  revenue,  gave  him  a 
certain  independent  aspect.  He  passed  whole  days  in  great 
and  wealthy  houses,  where  he  read  books,  aloud,  to  old  prin- 
cesses and  countesses,  and  for  young  princesses  and  count- 
esses; he  held  skeins  of  silk  on  his  opened  hands.  He  car- 
ried out  commissions  and  various  small  affairs;  at  balls  he 
led  dances;  he  amused  himself;  fell  in  love,  was  loved  in 
return;  he  passed  evenings  and  nights  in  clubs,  and  in 
private  rooms  at  restaurants,  at  theatres,  and  behind  the 
scenes  in  theatres,  where  he  paid  homage  to  famous  actresses 
of  various  degrees  and  qualities.  Those  were  times  truly 
joyous  and  golden.  At  that  period  he  was  served  not  by 
widow  Clemens,  but  by  a  man;  he  dined — if  not  with 
friends  or  relatives — at  the  best  restaurants.  At  that 
time,  too,  he  did  something  magnanimous,  which  brought 
reward  in  the  form  of  great  mental  profit:  He  passed  a 
whole  year  in  Italy  with  Count  Alfred,  his  relative,  who 

87 


The  Argonauts 

was  suffering  from  consumption;  Kranitski  nursed, 
amused,  and  comforted  his  cousin  with  patience,  attach- 
ment, and  tenderness  which  were  perfectly  sincere,  and 
which  came  from  a  heart  inclined  to  warm,  almost  sub- 
missive feelings.  In  return  that  year  gave  him  skill  in 
the  use  of  Italian,  and  a  wide  acquaintance  with  the 
achievements  and  the  schools  of  art,  of  which  he  was  an 
enthusiastic  worshipper.  Soon  after  he  went  with  Prince 
Zeno  to  Paris,  learned  France  and  its  capital  well,  and 
on  his  return  remained  for  some  time  as  a  reader  with 
the  prince,  whose  eyes  were  affected.  His  power  of 
beautiful  reading  in  many  languages  brought  him  a  wide 
reputation;  he  was  distinguished  in  drawing-rooms  by 
the  ease  of  his  speech  and  manners;  to  some  he  became 
a  valued  assistant  in  entertaining  guests,  and  a  pleasant  com- 
panion in  hours  of  loneliness;  to  others  he  was  a  master 
in  the  domain  of  amusements,  and  elegance  in  the  arts  of 
politeness  and  pleasure.  At  this  period  also  he  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Darvid,  and  met  his  wife,  whom  he  had 
known  from  childhood,  and  who  had  been  his  earliest  ideal 
of  womanhood.  Thenceforth,  his  relations  with  other 
houses  were  relaxed  considerably,  for  he  gave  himself  to 
the  Darvid  house  soul  and  body.  Though  Malvina's  chil- 
dren had  many  tutors,  he  taught  one  of  her  daughters 
Italian,  and  the  other  English ;  he  did  this  with  devotion, 
with  delight;  and,  therefore,  that  house  became,  as  it 
were,  his  own,  and  was  ever  open  to  him.  Moreover,  dur- 
ing the  last  ten  years  great  changes  had  happened  in  that 
society  of  which  he  was  the  adopted  child,  and  so  long 
the  favorite. 

Countess  Eugenia  had  given  her  daughter  in  marriage  to 
a  French  count,  and  resided  in  Paris;  Count  Alfred  was 
dead;  dead,  also,  was  that  dear,  kindly  Baroness  Blauendorf, 

88 


The  Argonauts 

from  whom  he  had  received  as  a  gift  that  mirror  with  porce- 
lain frame  and  Cupids.  Others,  too,  vv^ere  dead,  or  were 
Hving  elsewhere.  Only  Prince  Zeno  remained,  but  he  had 
cooled  toward  his  former  reader,  notably  because  of  the 
princess,  who  could  not  forgive  Kranitski;  since,  as  was  too 
well  known  by  all,  he  was  occupied  with  the  wife  of  that 
millionaire — the  eternally  absent. 

There  were  still  many  acquaintances,  and  more  recent 
relations,  but  these  had  neither  the  charm  nor  the  certainty 
of  those  which  time  had  in  various  ways  broken,  brought  to 
an  end,  or  relaxed. 

His  mother,  the  foundress  of  his  destiny,  had  ceased  to 
live  some  time  before  that. 

"  Pauvre  maman!  pauvre  mamanf 

How  tenderly  and  unboundedly  he  had  loved  her.  How 
long  he  had  hesitated  and  fought  with  himself  before  he 
left  at  her  persuasion,  the  house  in  which  she  had  given 
birth  to  him.  He  regretted  immensely  the  village,  the  free- 
dom, and  that  bright-haired  maiden  in  the  neighborhood. 
But  the  wide  world  and  the  great  city  took  on,  in  his 
mother's  narrative,  the  outlines  of  paradise,  and  his 
worthy  relatives,  the  forms  of  demi-gods. 

When  at  last,  after  long  hesitation  and  struggles,  he  re- 
solved to  go  away,  how  many  were  the  kisses  and  em- 
braces of  his  mother!  how  many  were  her  maxims  and 
advices;  how  many  her  predictions  of  happiness.  He  be- 
gan to  look  at  his  own  form  in  the  mirrors,  and  to  feel 
in  his  own  person  the  movement  of  desires,  hopes,  am- 
bitions. Once  he  caught  himself  bowing  and  making 
gestures,  almost  involuntarily,  before  the  mirrors.  He 
laughed  aloud,  his  mother  laughed  also,  for  she  had 
caught  him  in  the  act  red-handed. 

"Pauvre  maman!  pauvre,  cliere  maman!" 

89 


The  Argonauts 

And  on  the  background  of  that  domestic  gladness,  of 
those  wonderful  hopes,  only  one  person  by  her  conduct  had 
raised  a  cloud  on  that  heaven,  beaming  serenely.  That  Avas 
widow  Clemens,  an  old  servant  of  the  house,  and  once 
his  nurse,  not  young  even  at  that  time,  and  a  childless 
widow. 

She  was  morose,  grumbling,  peevish,  but  for  a  long  time 
she  said  nothing;  she  did  not  hinder  the  thin,  gray-haired 
mother,  nor  the  youth,  beautiful  as  a  dream,  from  rejoicing 
and  imagining;  till  at  last  she  spoke  when  alone  with  the 
petted  stripling.  It  was  the  end  of  an  autumn  day,  twilight 
had  begun  to  come  down  on  the  yard  in  Lipovka,  and  the 
linden  grove,  in  a  black  line,  cut  through  the  evening  ruddi- 
ness glowing  in  the  western  heavens.  Widow  Clemens,  with 
her  eyes  fixed  on  the  grove  and  the  red  of  evening,  said: 

"6n  Tulek,  Tulek!  how  will  this  be?  You  will  go 
away;  you  Avill  take  up  and  go  away;  but  the  sun  will  rise 
and  set;  the  grove  will  rustle;  the  wheat  will  ripen;  and 
the  snow  will  fall  when  you  are  gone." 

He  sat  on  the  bench  of  the  piazza,  and  said  nothing.  But 
in  the  distant  fields,  in  the  growing  darkness,  a  shepherd's 
whistle  gave  out  clear  tones,  simple,  monotonous,  they  flew 
along  the  field  like  the  weeping  of  space. 

"  Why  go;  do  you  know  why — God  alone  knows.  What 
are  you  throwing  away?  The  beauties  of  God.  What  will 
you  bring  back?    Perhaps  the  mud  people  cast  at  you." 

A  cow  bellowed  in  the  stable;  a  belated  working- woman 
muttered  a  song  somewhere  behind  in  the  garden.  The 
evening  red  was  quenched;  and  above  the  roof  the  crescent 
of  the  moon  came  out,  thin  and  like  silver. 

Widow  Clemens  whispered: 

"Ill-fated!  ill-fated  boy !  " 

He  was  immensely  far  from  considering  himself  ill- 

90 


The  Argonauts 

fated,  but  something  in  his  heart  felt  pain  at  leaving  that 
village  where  he  was  born,  at  leaving  Malvina,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  ought  to  stay. 

But  he  went.  The  Argonaut,  of  twenty  and  some  years 
of  age,  went  out  into  the  world,  slender,  adroit,  with  eyes 
dark  and  fiery  as  youth,  with  cheeks  shapely  and  fresh  as 
peaches,  with  a  forehead  as  white  and  pure  as  the  petal 
of  a  lily;  he  went  for  a  wife  with  a  fortune,  for  the  pleas- 
ures of  the  world — for  the  golden  fleece. 

Kow  he  wrapped  himself  closely  in  the  skirt  of  his  faded 
dressing-gown,  and  let  his  head  droop  so  low  that  the  bald 
spot  seemed  white  on  the  top  of  it;  his  lower  lip  dropped; 
the  red  spots  came  out  over  his  dark  brows  on  his  wrinkled 
forehead.  In  his  hand  he  held  the  cigarette-case  presented 
by  Countess  Eugenia,  now  living  in  Paris,  and  at  times  he 
turned  it  in  his  fingers,  with  an  unconscious  movement,  and 
that  glittering  object  cast  on  the  tattered  sleeve  of  his  dress- 
ing-gown, on  his  sufiiering  face,  on  his  long,  thin  fingers,  its 
bright,  golden  reflection. 

Meanwhile  widow  Clemens  had  returned  to  the  kitchen, 
and  there,  not  without  a  loud  clattering  of  overshoes,  had 
begun  to  cook  the  dinner.  But  Kranitski  neither  heard  nor 
saw  anything.  From  time  to  time  the  head,  with  its  great 
cap,  looked  in  through  the  kitchen  door,  gazed  on  him  un- 
quietly  and  pushed  back  to  look  in  again  soon. 

"  Will  you  have  dinner  now?  "  inquired  she  at  last.  "  It 
is  ready." 

In  a  low  voice  he  asked  for  dinner,  but  he  ate  almost 
nothing;  the  woman  had  never  yet  seen  him  so  broken,  still 
slic  made  no  inquiry.  When  the  moment  came  he  would 
tell  all  himself.  He  was  not  of  those  who  bear  secrets  to 
the  grave  with  them.  She  waited  on  the  man,  gave  him 
food,  brought  tea,  cleared  the  table  in  silence.     Once  she 

91 


The  Argonauts 

fell  into  trouble:    Passing  hurriedly  through  the  room  she 
lost  one  of  the  overshoes  which  she  had  on  her  feet: 

"Ah!  may  thou  be! — they  fall  off  every  moment!" 
grumbled  she,  and  for  some  minutes  she  struggled  with  that 
overshoe,  which,  dropping  from  her  foot,  slipped  along  the 
floor  noisily.    Kranitski  raised  his  head: 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  inquired  he. 

She  made  no  answer,  but  when  she  was  near  the  kitchen 
door,  he  cried: 

"  What  have  you  on  your  feet  that  clatter  so  ?  It  is  irritat- 
ing!" 

She  stopped  at  the  door: 

"What  have  I  on  my  feet?  Well,  your  old  overshoes! 
Am  I  to  wear  out  shoes  every  day,  and  then  buy  new  ones? 
'Irritating!'  Arabian  adventure!  God  grant  that  you 
never  have  worse  irritation  than  overshoes  clattering  on  the 
floor! " 

And  she  grumbled  on  in  the  kitchen  while  going  with  an 
empty  glass  to  the  samovdr: 

"  You  wouldn't  have  a  pinch  of  tea  in  the  house  if  I  went 
around  in  new  shoes  all  my  time!  " 

Darkness  came  down.  Kranitski  smoked  cigarettes  one 
after  another,  and  was  so  sunk  in  thought  that  he  trembled 
throughout  his  body.  When  widow  Clemens  brought  in  a 
lamp,  with  a  milk-colored  globe,  which  filled  the  room  with 
a  white,  mild  light,  Kranitski  looked  at  the  head  of  the  old 
woman  in  the  white  lamp-light,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  a 
number  of  hours,  he  spoke: 

"  Come,  mother,  come  nearer!  "  said  he. 

When  she  came  he  seized  her  rude  fist  in  both  his  hands 
and  shook  it  vigorously. 

"  What  could  I  do;  what  would  happen  to  me  now,  if  you 
were  not  with  me  ?  No  living  soul  of  my  own  here!  Alone, 
alone,  as  in  a  desert." 

92 


The  Argonauts 

The  onrush  of  tenderness  bnrst  through  all  obstructions. 
Confidences  flowed  on.  He  had  loved  for  the  last  time  in 
life,  le  dernier  amour,  and  all  had  ended.  She  had  forbidden 
him  to  see  her.  That  decision  of  hers  had  been  ripening 
for  a  long  time.  Eeproaches  of  conscience,  shame,  despair 
as  to  her  children.  One  daughter  knew  everything;  the 
other  might  know  it  any  day.  She  had  let  out  of  her  hands 
the  rudder  of  those  hearts  and  consciences,  for  when  she  was 
talking  with  them  her  own  fault  closed  her  lips,  like  a  red- 
hot  seal.  She  thought  herself  the  most  pitiful  of  creatures. 
She  did  not  wish  to  make  further  use  of  her  husband's 
wealth,  or  the  position  which  it  give  her  in  society.  She 
wished  to  go  away,  to  settle  down  in  some  silent  corner, 
vanish  from  the  eyes  of  people. 

Kranitski  was  so  excited  that  he  almost  sobbed;  here  his 
speech  was  interrupted  by  a  rough,  sarcastic  voice: 

"  It  is  well  that  she  came  to  her  senses  at  last " 

""\i\Tiat  senses?  What  are  you  weaving,  mother?  You 
know  nothing.  Love  is  never  an  offense.  lis  out  peche, 
mais  le  ceil  est  un  donj" 

"  You  are  mad,  Tulek!  Am  I  some  madam  that  you  must 
speak  French  to  me?  " 

Still  he  finished: 

"  lis  ont  soujfert,  c'est  le  sceau  du  pardon.  I  will  translate 

this  for  thee:   They  have  sinned,  but  heaven  is  a  gift 

They  have  suffered;   suffering  is  the  seal  of  pardon." 

"  Tulek,  let  heaven  alone!  To  mix  up  such  things  with 
heaven — Arabian  adventure!  " 

"  Are  you  a  priest,  mother?  I  tell  you  of  my  own  suffer- 
ing and  the  suffering  of  that  noble,  sweet  being " 

In  the  antechamber,  the  door  of  which  widow  Clemens, 
in  returning  from  the  city,  had  not  locked,  was  heard 
stamping,  and  the  youthful  voice  of  a  man  called : 

93 


The  Argonauts 

"  Is  your  master  at  home?  " 

"  Arabian  adventure!  "  muttered  widow  Clemens. 

"  Maryan! "  exclaimed  Kranitski  with  delight,  and  he 
answered  aloud: 

"  I  am  at  home,  at  home!  " 

"  An  event  worthy  of  record  in  universal  history,"  an- 
swered the  voice  of  a  man  speaking  somewhat  through  his 
nose  and  teeth. 

"  And  the  baron! "  cried  Kranitski;  then  he  whis- 
pered: 

"  Close  the  drawing-room  door,  mother;  I  must  freshen 
up  a  little,"  and  from  behind  the  closed  door  he  spoke  to 
those  who  were  in  the  drawing-room: 

"  In  a  moment,  my  dears,  in  a  moment  I  shall  be  at  your 
service." 

In  the  light  of  the  lamp,  placed  by  widow  Clemens  in  the 
drawing-room,  he  appeared,  indeed,  after  a  few  minutes, 
dressed,  his  hair  arranged,  perfumed,  elegant  with  springy 
movements  and  an  unconstrained  smile  on  his  lips.  Only 
his  lids  were  reddened,  and  on  his  forehead  were  many  wrin- 
kles which  would  not  be  smoothed  away. 

"  A  comedian!  There  is  a  comedian!  "  grumbled  widow 
Clemens,  returning  to  the  kitchen,  with  a  terrible  clatter  of 
overshoes. 

The  two  young  men  pressed  his  hand  in  friendship.  It 
was  clear  that  they  liked  him. 

"  Why  did  you  avoid  us  all  day?  "  inquired  Baron  Emil. 
"We  waited  for  you  at  Borel's — he  gave  us  an  excellent 
dinner.    But  maybe  you  are  fasting?  " 

"  Let  him  alone,  he  has  his  suffering,"  put  in  Maryan. 
"  I  am  so  sorry,  mon  Ion  vieux  (my  good  old  man),  that  I 
have  persuaded  the  baron  to  join  me  in  taking  you  out.  I 
cannot,  of  course,  leave  you  a  victim  to  melancholy." 

94 


The  Argonauts 

Kranitski  was  moved;  gratitude  and  tenderness  were  gaz- 
ing out  of  his  eyes. 

"  Thanks,  thanks!    You  touch  me." 

He  pressed  the  hands  of  both  in  turn,  holding  Maryau's 
hand  longer  than  the  baron's,  with  the  words: 

"  My  dear — dear — dear." 

The  young  man  smiled. 

"  Do  not  grow  so  tender,"  said  he,  "  for  that  injures  the 
interior.  You  are,  however,  a  son  of  that  generation  which 
possesses  an  antidote  for  melancholy." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Well,  faith,  hope,  charity,  with  resignation  and — other 
painted  pots.  We  haven't  them,  so  we  go  to  Tron-tron's, 
where  Lili  Kerth  sings.  We  are  to  give  her  a  supper  to- 
night at  Borel's.  Borel  has  promised  me  everything  which 
the  five  parts  of  the  world  can  give." 

"  As  to  the  problematic  nature  of  that  Lili,"  remarked 
the  baron,  "  there  are  moments  in  which  she  takes  on  the 
superhuman  ideal." 

"  What  an  idea,  dear  baron!  "  burst  out  Kranitski.  "  Lili 
and  supcrhumanity,  the  ideal !  Why,  she  is  a  little  beast 
that  sings  abject  things  marvellously." 

"That  is  it,  that  is  it!"  said  the  baron,  defending  his 
position,  "  a  little  beast  in  the  guise  of  an  angel — the  sing- 
ing of  chansonettes  with  such  a  devil  in  the  body — and  at 
the  same  time  a  complexion,  a  look,  a  smile,  which  scatters 
a  kind  of  mystic,  lily  perfume.  This  is  precisely  that  dis- 
sonance, that  snap,  that  mystery  with  which  she  has  con- 
quered Europe.  This  rouses  curiosity;  it  excites;  it  is  op- 
posed to  rules,  to  harmony — do  you  understand?  " 

"  Stop,  Emil! "  cried  Maryan,  laughing.  "  You  are 
speaking  to  the  guardian  of  tombs.  He  worships  harmony 
yet." 

95 


The  Argonauts 


&' 


Kranitski  seemed  humiliated  somewhat.  He  passed  his 
palm  over  his  hair,  and  began  timidly: 

"  But  that  is  true,  my  dears;  1  see  myself  that  I  am  be- 
coming old-fashioned.  Men  of  my  time,  and  I,  called  a  cat 
a  cat,  a  rogue  a  rogue.  If  a  Lili  like  yours  put  on  the  airs 
of  an  angel  we  said:  '  Oh,  she  is  a  rogue! '  And  we  knew 
what  to  think  of  the  matter.  But  this  confounding  of  pro- 
fane with  sacred,  of  the  rudest  carnalism  with  a  mystic  ten- 
dency  " 

The  baron  and  Maryan  laughed. 

"  For  you  this  is  all  Greek,  and  will  remain  Greek.  You 
were  born  in  the  age  of  harmony,  you  will  remain  on  the 
side  of  harmony.  But  a  truce  to  talk.  Let  us  go.  Come, 
you  will  hear  Lili  Kerth;  we  shall  sup  together." 

"  Come,  we  have  a  place  in  the  carriage  for  you,"  said 
the  baron,  supporting  young  Darvid's  invitation. 

Kranitski  grew  as  radiant  as  if  a  sun-ray  had  fallen  on 
his  face. 

"  Very  well,  my  dears,  very  well,  I  will  go  with  you;  it 
will  distract  me,  freshen  me.  A  little  while  only;  will  you 
permit?  " 

"  Of  course.  Willingly.  We  will  wait." 
He  hurried  to  his  bedroom,  and  closed  the  door  behind 
him.  In  his  head  whirled  pictures  and  expressions:  the 
theatre,  songs,  amusement,  supper,  conversation,  the  bright 
light — everything,  in  a  word,  to  which  he  had  grown  accus- 
tomed, and  with  which  he  had  lived  for  many  years.  The 
foretaste  of  delight  penetrated  through  his  grievous  sorrows. 
After  the  bitter  mixture  he  felt  the  taste  of  caramels  in  his 
mouth.  He  ran  toward  his  dressing-table,  but  in  the  middle 
of  the  room  he  stood  as  if  fixed  to  the  floor.  His  eye  met 
a  beautiful  heliotype,  standing  on  the  bureau  in  the  light 
of  the  lamp ;  from  the  middle  of  the  room,  in  a  motion- 

96 


The  Argonauts 

less  posture,  Kranitski  gazed  at  the  face  of  the  woman, 
which  was  enclosed  in  an  ornamented  frame. 

"Poor,  dear  soul!  Noble  creature!  "  whispered  he,  and 
his  lips  quivered,  and  on  his  forehead  appeared  the  red 
spots.    Maryan  called  from  beyond  the  door: 

"  Hurry,  old  man!    We  shall  be  late!  " 

A  few  minutes  afterward  Kranitski  entered  the  drawing- 
room.    His  shoulders  were  bent;  his  lids  redder  than  before. 

"  I  cannot — as  I  love  you,  I  cannot  go  with  you!  I  feel 
ill." 

"Indeed,  he  must  be  ill!"  cried  Maryan.  "See,  Emil, 
how  our  old  man  looks!    He  is  changed,  is  he  not?  " 

"  But  a  moment  ago  you  looked  well!  "  blurted  out  Emil, 
and  added:  "  Do  not  become  wearisome,  do  not  get  sick. 
Sick  people  are  fertilizers  on  the  field  of  death — and  sick- 
ness is  annoying ! " 

"  Splendidly  said ! "  exclaimed  Maryan. 

"No,  no,"  answered  Kranitski,  "this  is  not  important, 
it  is  an  old  trouble  of  the  liver.  Returned  only  to-day — 
you  must  go  without  me." 

He  straightened  himself,  smiled,  tried  to  move  without 
constraint,  but  unconquerable  suffering  was  evident  on  his 
features  and  in  the  expression  of  his  eyes. 

"  May  we  send  the  doctor?  "  asked  Maryan. 

"  No,  no,"  protested  Kranitski,  and  the  baron  took  him 
by  the  arm  and  turned  him  toward  the  bedroom.  Though 
Kranitski's  shoulders  were  bent  at  that  moment,  his  form 
was  shapely  and  imposing;  the  baron,  holding  his  arm, 
seemed  small  and  frail;  he  made  one  think  of  a  fly.  In  the 
bedroom  he  said,  with  a  low  voice: 

"  It  is  reported  in  the  city  that  papa  Darvid  is  opposed 
to  my  plans  concerning  Panna  Irene.  Do  you  know  of 
this?  " 

97 


The  Argonauts 

For  some  months  the  baron  had  spoken  frequently  with 
Kranitski  about  his  plans,  taking  counsel  with  him  even  at 
times,  and  begging  for  indications.  Was  he  not  the  most 
intimate  friend  oi  that  house,  and  surely  an  adviser  of  the 
family?  Kranitski  did  not  think,  or  even  speak,  of  Baron 
Emil  otherwise  than: 

"  Ce  hrave  gargon  has  the  best  heart  in  the  world;  he  is 
very  highly  developed  and  intelligent;  yes,  very  intelligent; 
and  his  mother,  that  dear,  angelic  baroness,  was  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  stars  among  those  which  have  lighted  my 
life." 

So  through  the  man's  innate  inclination  to  an  optimistic 
view  of  mankind,  and  his  grateful  memory  of  "  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  stars,"  he  was  always  very  friendly  to  the 
baron  and  favorable  to  his  plan  touching  Irene;  all  the  more 
since  he  noted  in  her  an  inclination  toward  the  baron.  So, 
usually,  he  gave  the  young  man  counsel  and  answers  will- 
ingly and  exhaustively.  This  time,  however,  an  expression 
of  constraint  and  of  suffering  fell  on  his  face. 

"  I  know  not,  dear  baron;  indeed,  I  can  do  nothing,  for 
to  tell— for  I " 

A  number  of  drops  of  perspiration  came  out  on  his  fore- 
head, and  he  added,  with  difficulty: 

"  It  seems  that  Panna  Irene " 

"  Panna  Irene,"  interrupted  the  baron,  without  noticing 
Kranitski's  emotion,  "  is  a  sonnet  from  Baudelaire's  Les 
fleurs  du  mal  (The  flowers  of  evil).  There  is  in  her  some- 
thing undefined,  something  contradictory " 

Kranitski  made  a  quick  movement. 

"  My  baron " 

"  But  do  you  not  understand  me,  dear  Pan  Arthur?  I 
have  no  intention  of  speaking  ill  of  Panna  Irene.  In  my 
mouth  the  epithets  which  I  have  used  are  the  highest 

98 


The  Argonauts 

praise.  Panna  Irene  is  interesting  precisely  for  this  reason, 
that  she  is  indefinite  and  comphcated.  She  is  a  disenchanted 
woman.  She  possesses  that  nniversal  irony  which  is  the 
stamp  of  higher  natures.  Oh,  Panna  Irene  is  not  a  violet 
unless  from  the  hot-house  of  Baudelaire!  But,  just  for  that 
reason  she  rouses  curiosity,  irritates,  une  desabusee — une 
vierge  desabusee.  Do  you  understand  ?  There  is  in  this  the 
odor  of  mystery — a  new  quiver.  But  with  natures  of  this 
sort  nothing  can  ever  be  certain " 

"  Hers  is  a  noble  nature ! "  cried  Kranitski,  with  enthu- 
siasm. 

"  You  divide  natures  into  noble  and  not  noble,"  said 
the  baron,  with  a  smile;  "but  I,  into  annoying  and  in- 
teresting." 

Beyond  the  door  the  loud  voice  of  Maryan  was  heard: 

"  Emil,  I  will  leave  you  and  go  to  Tron-tron's.  I  will  tell 
Lili  Kerth  that  you  remained  for  the  night  to  nurse  a  sick 
friend." 

These  words  seemed  to  them  so  amusing  that  they 
laughed,  from  both  sides  of  the  closed  door,  simultaneously. 

"  Good! "  cried  the  baron.  You  will  create  for  me  the 
fame  of  a  good  Christian.  As  the  Brandenburger  fears  only 
God,  I  fear  only  the  ridiculous,  and  go." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  two  friends  were  no  longer  in 
the  dwelling  of  Kranitski,  who  was  sitting  on  his  long 
chair  again,  with  drooping  head,  turning  in  his  fingers  the 
golden  cigarette-case.  The  street  outside  the  window  was 
lonely  enough,  so  the  rumble  of  the  departing  carriage  was 
audible.  Kranitski  followed  it  with  his  ear,  and  when  it  was 
silent  he  regretted  passionately  for  a  moment  that  he  had 
not  gone  to  where  people  were  singing  and  Jesting,  and  eat- 
ing, and  drinking  in  bright  light,  in  waves  of  laughter. 
But,  straightway,  he  felt  an  invincible  distaste  for  all  that. 

99 


The  Argonauts 

He  was  so  sad,  crushed,  sick.  Why  had  not  those  two  young 
friends  of  his  remained  longer?  He  had  rendered  them  the 
most  varied  services  frequently,  he  had  simply  heen  at  their 
service  always,  and  had  loved  them;  especially  Maryan, 
the  dear  child — and  many  others.  How  many  times  had 
he  nursed  them,  also,  in  sickness,  consoled  them,  rescued 
them,  amused  them.  Now,  when  he  cannot  run  after 
them,  as  a  dog  after  its  mistress,  his  only  comrades  are 
darkness  and  silence. 

Darkness  reigned  in  the  little  drawing-room,  silence  of 
the  grave  in  the  whole  dwelling.  A  clatter  of  overshoes 
broke  this  silence;  widow  Clemens  stood  in  the  kitchen 
door.  On  her  high  forehead,  above  her  gray  eyebrows,  shone 
the  glass  eyes  of  her  spectacles;  her  left  hand  was  covered 
with  a  man's  sock  which  she  was  darning.  She  stood  in  the 
door  and  looked  at  Kranitski,  bent,  grown  old,  buried  in 
gloomy  silence,  and  shook  her  head.  Then,  as  quietly  as 
ever  was  possible  for  her,  she  approached  the  long-chair,  sat 
on  a  stool  which  was  near  it,  and  asked: 

"Well,  why  are  you  silent,  and  chewing  sorrow  alone? 
Talk  with  me,  you  will  feel  easier." 

As  he  gazed  at  her  silently,  she  asked  in  a  still  lower 
tone: 

"  Well,  the  woman?  Did  she  love  you  greatly?  Was  her 
love  real?    How  did  you  and  she  come  to  your  senses?  " 

After  a  few  minutes'  hesitation,  or  thought,  Kranitski, 
with  his  elbows  on  the  edge  of  the  chair,  and  his  forehead  on 
his  palms,  said: 

"  I  can  tell  all,  mother,  for  you  are  not  of  our  society,  and 
you  are  noble,  faithful;  the  only  one  on  earth  who  remains 
with  me." 

Throughout  the  silent  chamber  was  heard,  as  it  were,  the 
sound  of  a  trumpet:    that  sound  was  made  by  widow 

100 


The  Argonauts 

Clemens,  who  had  drawn  from  her  pocket  a  coarse  hand- 
kerchief and  held  it  to  her  nose.  Her  eyes  were  moist. 
Kranitski  quivered  and  squirmed,  but  continued: 

"  When  we  met  the  tirst  time  after  parting,  the  spring 
season  was  around  us.  You  know  that  we  parted  only  be- 
cause I  had  too  little  fortune  to  marry  a  portionless  maiden, 
and  my  mother  would  not  hear  of  my  marrying  a  governess. 
Soon  after,  that  rich  man  married  her.  Fiu!  fiu!  what  be- 
came of  that  governess,  that  girl  more  timid  than  a  violet? 
She  became  a  society  lady,  full  of  life,  elegance,  style — ^but 
springtime  breathed  around  us,  memories  of  the  village,  of 
the  flowers,  of  the  fields,  of  our  earliest,  heartfelt  emotions. 
Did  she  love  her  husband?  Poor,  dear,  soul!  It  seems  that 
at  first  she  was  attached  to  him,  but  he  left  her,  neglected 
her,  grasped  after  millions  throughout  the  whole  world.  He 
was  strong,  unbending — she  was  ever  alone.  Alone  in  soci- 
ety! Alone  in  the  house — for  the  children  were  small  yet, 
and  she  so  sensitive  and  weak,  needing  friendship  and  the 
fondling  of  a  devoted  heart.  I  fell  on  my  knees  in  spirit 
before  her — she  felt  that.  He,  when  going  away,  left  me  near 
her  as  an  adviser,  a  guardian  for  the  time,  even  a  protector, 
yes,  a  pro-tec-tor — the  parvenul  the  idiot!  So  wise,  yet 
so  stupid — ha!  ha!  ha!  " 

Sneering,  vengeful  laughter  contorted  Kranitski's  face, 
the  red  spots  spread  over  his  brows  and  covered  half  of  his 
forehead,  which  was  drawn  now  into  thick  wrinkles, 

"  Do  not  vex  yourself,  Tulek,  do  not  vex  yourself,  you 
will  be  ill,"  urged  widow  Clemens;  but  once  his  confessions 
were  begun  he  went  on  with  them. 

"  For  a  year  or  more  there  was  nothing  between  us.  We 
were  friends,  but  she  held  mc  at  a  distance;  she  struggled. 
You,  mother,  know  if  I  had  success  with  women " 

"  You  liad,  to  your  eternal  ruin,  you  had!  "  blurted  out 
widow  Clemens. 

101 


The  Argonauts 

"  From  youth  I  had  the  gift  of  reading;  I  owe  much  to  it." 

"Ei!  you  owe  much  to  it!  What  do  you  owe  to  it ?  Your 
sin  against  God,  and  the  waste  of  your  hfe!  "  said  the  widow, 
ready  for  a  dispute,  but  he  went  on  without  noting  tliat. 

"  Once  she  was  weak  after  a  violent  attack  of  neuralgia; 
it  was  late  in  the  evening,  the  great  house  was  empty  and 
dark,  the  children  were  sleeping — I  gave  her  the  attention 
that  a  brother  or  a  mother  would  give;  I  was  careful;  I  hid 
what  was  happening  within  me;  I  acted  as  though  I  were 
watching  over  a  sick  child  which  was  dear  to  me.  I  enter- 
tained her  with  conversation;  I  spoke  in  a  low  voice;  I 
gave  her  medicine  and  confectionery.  Afterward  I  began 
to  read.  More  than  once  she  had  said  that  my  reading 
was  music.  I  was  reading  Musset.  You  do  not  know, 
mother,  who  Musset  is.  He  is  the  poet  of  love — of  that 
love  exactly  which  the  world  calls  forbidden.  She  wanted 
something  from  the  neighboring  chamber;  I  went  for  it. 
When  I  returned  our  eyes  met,  and — well,  I  read  no  more 
that  evening.'^ 

He  was  barely  able  to  utter  the  last  words;  he  covered  his 
face  with  his  handkerchief,  rested  his  head  on  the  arm  of 
the  long-chair,  was  motionless;  wept,  perhaps.  Widow 
Clemens  bent  down,  the  corner  of  her  coarse  handkerchief 
came  from  her  pocket,  and  through  the  chamber  that  sound 
of  a  trumpet  was  heard  for  the  second  time.  Then  she  drew 
her  bench  up  still  nearer,  and,  with  her  hand  in  the  stock- 
ing-foot, touched  Kranitski's  arm,  and  whispered: 

"  Say  no  more,  Tulek;  despair  not!  Let  God  up  there 
judge  her  and  you.  He  is  a  strict  judge,  but  merciful !  I 
am  sorry  for  you,  but  also  for  her,  poor  thing!  What  is 
to  be  done  ?  The  heart  is  not  stone,  man  is  not  an  angel ! 
Only  drive  off  despair!  Everything  passes,  and  your  sorrow 
also  will  pass.    You  may  be  better  off  in  the  world  than  you 

102 


The  Argonauts 

now  are.    You  may  yet  enjoy  pleasant  quiet  in  Lipovka,  in 
your  own  cottage.    Stefanek  and  I  may  think  out  sometliing, 
so  that  you  will  escape  from  the  mud  of  this  city." 
Kranitski  made  no  answer;  the  woman  spoke  on: 
"  I  have  had  another  letter  from  Stefanek." 
"  What  does  that  honest  man  write?  "  asked  Kranitski. 
The  widow  flushed  up  in  anger: 

"  It  is  true  that  he  is  honest,  and  there  is  no  need  to  call 
him  that — as  if  through  favor,  or  sneering.  Arabian  ad- 
venture! He  is  only  my  godson,  but  better  than  men  of 
high  birth.  He  writes  that  management  in  Lipovka  goes 
well;  that  again  he  has  set  out  a  hundred  fruit-trees  in  the 
garden;  that  in  four  weeks  he  will  come  and  bring  a  little 
money." 

"  Money!  "  whispered  Kranitski;  "  but  that  is  well!  " 
"  It  is  surely  well,  for  that  Jew  would  have  taken  your 
furniture  if  I  had  not  pushed  him  down  the  steps,  and 
a  second  time  begged  him  to  wait."  She  laughed.  "  To 
push  him  down  was  easier  than  to  beg,  for  I  am  strong, 
and  he  is  as  small  as  a  fly.  Well  I  almost  kissed  his  hands, 
and  he  promised  to  wait.  '  For  widow  Clemens  I  will  do 
this,'  said  he,  'because  she  is  a  servant  who  is  like  a 
mother.'  Indeed,  I  am  like  a  mother !  I  have  no  children, 
I  have  no  one  of  my  own  in  the  world — I  have  only  you." 
Kranitski  looked  at  her  and  began  to  shake  his  head  with 
a  slow  movement.  She,  too,  fixing  her  fiery  and  gloomy  eyes 
on  his  eyes,  shook  slowly  her  head,  which  was  covered  with 
a  great  cap. 

The  lamp  burning  on  the  bureau  threw  its  white  light 
on  those  two  heads,  which,  discoursing  sadly,  continued 
their  melancholy  converse  without  words ;  it  shone  also  on 
the  varied  collection  of  pipes  at  the  wall,  and  cast  passing 
gleams  on  the  golden  cigarette-case  which  Kranitski 
turned  in  his  hand. 

103 


CHAPTER  V 

Daevid  was  in  splendid  humor — he  had  bought  at  auction 
a  house  and  broad  grounds  very  reasonably.  He  cared  httle 
for  the  house — it  was  a  rubbishy  old  pile  which  he  would 
remove  very  soon — but  the  grounds,  covered  then  with  an 
extensive  garden,  represented  an  uncommonly  profitable 
transaction.  Situated  near  one  of  the  railroad  stations,  he 
would,  of  course,  receive  a  high  price  for  it,  because  of 
the  need  to  put  there  a  great  public  edifice. 

Darvid  would  sell  the  ground  to  those  who  needed  it,  and 
then  make  proposals  to  build  the  edifice.  This  was  the  third 
undertaking  which  had  fallen  to  him  since  his  return,  a 
few  months  before.  What  of  that,  when  the  most  im- 
portant, for  which  he  would  have  given  the  other  three  Avill- 
ingly,  had  not  fallen  yet  to  him,  and  he  did  not  know  well 
what  had  been  done  concerning  it?  This  affair  did  not  let 
him  sleep  sometimes,  still  it  did  not  disincline  him  from 
working  at  that  which  he  had  begun  already. 

The  day  was  clear,  slightly  frosty,  myriads  of  brilliants 
were  glittering  in  the  white  rime  which  covered  the  trees, 
and  in  the  snow  which  lay  on  the  extensive  garden.  Darvid, 
in  company  with  a  surveyor,  an  engineer,  and  an  architect, 
walked  through  the  garden,  but  the  object  of  his  walk  was 
in  no  way  the  contemplation  of  nature  bound  up  under 
marbles,  and  alabasters  sprinkled  with  brilliants.  The  en- 
gineer brought  him  a  plan  for  the  purchase  of  the  place, 
and  supported  the  interests  of  his  employers  energetically; 
the  surveyor  and  the  architect  spoke  of  their  part,  pointed 

104 


The  Argonauts 

out  with  gestures  the  proportions  and  various  points  of  the 
open  area.  Darvid,  in  a  closely  fitting  fur  coat,  finished 
with  an  original  and  very  costly  collar,  with  a  shining  hat  on 
his  head,  walked  over  the  ground  with  even  tread;  he  lis- 
tened rather  than  spoke,  there  was  a  silent  satisfaction  in 
his  smile,  when  suddenly  an  immense  brightness  reflected 
from  a  tree,  directly  in  front,  dazzled  his  eyesight.  The 
tree,  which  resembled  a  lofty  pillar,  had  on  each  of  its 
branches  a  plume,  cut  as  it  were  delicately  from  alabaster, 
every  feather  of  this  plume  flamed  like  a  torch  lighted  in  a 
rainbow.  Sheafs  of  rainbow  gleams  shot  out  of  that  won- 
derful carving,  and  from  that  fountain  of  many-colored 
light.  Darvid  put  his  glasses  on  his  nose  suddenly,  and 
said  with  a  painful  twist  of  the  mouth: 

"  What  unendurable  light!  " 

The  architect  looked  at  the  tree  and  said,  with  a  smile: 

"  No  man,  not  even  a  Greek  master,  has  ever  finished  a 
pillar  like  that." 

"  The  only  pity  is  that  it  cannot  be  used,"  replied 
Darvid,  smiling  also. 

"  You  are  not  a  lover  of  nature,  that  is  true;  while  I " 

began  the  engineer. 

"  On  the  contrary,  on  the  contrary.  During  intervals  I 
have  looked  at  nature  here  and  there,"  said  Darvid,  play- 
fully. "  But  to  become  her  lover,  as  you  say,  I  have  not  had 
leisure.  To  love  nature  is  a  luxury  which  iron  toil  does  not 
know — a  luxury  which  must  have  leisure." 

With  these  words  he  turned  from  the  beautiful  work  of 
nature  and  intended  to  go  on,  but  again  he  halted.  lie 
found  himself  at  the  picket  fence,  which  divided  the  garden 
from  the  street,  and  in  the  movement  of  the  street  he  saw 
something  which  occupied  him  greatly. 

It  was  the  hour  of  departure  for  one  of  the  railroad 

105 


The  Argonauts 

trains.  The  street  was  wide,  and  the  ground  on  both 
sides  of  it  was  not  entirely  occupied  yet  with  houses,  many 
carriages  on  wheels,  and  a  multitude  of  sleighs  were  hast- 
ening toward  the  near  railway  station.  The  sleighs  shot 
forward  with  clinking  harness,  the  snow  under  wheels 
squeaked  complainingly,  the  drivers  uttered  brief  shouts. 
The  hats  of  men  and  women,  various  kinds  of  furs,  the 
liveries  of  coachmen,  the  horses  puffing  steam,  covered 
here  and  there  with  colored  nets,  formed  a  motley,  chang- 
ing line,  moving  forward  with  a  rattle  and  an  outcry  along 
the  white  snow,  in  an  atmosphere  glittering  from  frost  and 
sunlight. 

One  of  the  carriages  looked  like  a  flower  garden.  Eoses, 
camelias,  pinks,  and  violets  were  creeping  out — simply  pour- 
ing out — through  its  windows.  The  carriage  was  filled  with 
bouquets,  garlands,  baskets.  Among  these,  as  in  a  flood  of 
various  colors,  appeared  in  the  heart  of  it  the  broad-rimmed 
hat  of  a  woman.  Immediately  behind  the  carriage  rushed 
a  sleigh  drawn  by  a  pair  of  grand  horses,  the  driver  wear- 
ing an  enormous  fur  collar,  and  in  the  sleigh  were  two 
young  men,  at  whose  feet  again  was  a  basket  of  flowers, 
but  the  finest  and  costliest,  very  rare  and  expensive 
orchids.  The  carriage  and  sleigh  shot  forward  through 
the  many-colored  crowd  of  the  street,  as  if  some  enchanted 
vision  of  spring  had  risen  through  the  snow  and  then 
vanished. 

"Who  is  that  lady  in  the  carriage  filled  with  flowers?" 
asked  Darvid,  turning  to  his  companions. 

"  Bianca  Biannetti." 

That  was  a  name  which  needed  no  commentary.  Darvid 
smiled,  with  satisfaction.  It  was  not  wonderful  that  Maryan 
and  the  little  baron  were  escorting  to  the  station  that 
woman  of  European  fame,  and  were  taking  flowers  to  her. 

106 


The  Argonauts 

Of  course,  of  course.  He  himself  a  number  of  times  in  his 
life — and  if  it  was  not  oftener,  it  was  because  time  had 
failed  him. 

"  There  will  be  an  amusing  history  to-day  at  the  station," 
said  the  engineer.  "  A  special  train  for  Bianca;  it  is  to 
leave  five  minutes  after  the  regular  one." 

"  For  what  purpose  ?  "  asked  the  architect. 

"  It  is  easy  to  divine:  to  have  five  minutes  longer  to  enjoy 
the  society  of  the  great  singer." 

"  An  extra  trainj  That  is  madness!  "  said  Darvid.  "Who 
did  this?" 

The  engineer  and  architect  exchanged  significant  glances, 
and  the  former  answered: 

"  Your  son." 

The  skin  on  Darvid's  face  quivered,  but  he  answered  with 
perfect  composure: 

"Ah,  true!  I  remember  Maryan  told  me  something  of 
this.  I  persuaded  him  a  little,  but  he  insisted.  What  is  to 
be  done?  11  faut  que  la  jeuness  se  passe  (youth  must  have  its 
day)." 

Then  he  gave  his  hand  to  the  three  men  in  farewell: 

"  I  am  sorry  that  we  cannot  finish  our  discussions  to-day, 
but  I  remember  an  important  affair.  I  beg  you,  gentlemen, 
to  come  to-morrow  at  the  usual  hour  of  my  receptions." 

He  raised  his  hat  and  left  them. 

"  To  the  station!  Hurry! "  said  he  to  the  driver  while 
entering  the  carriage. 

At  the  station  stood  a  row  of  cars  with  a  locomotive 
sending  up  steam.  A  throng  of  people  were  moving 
toward  the  snow-covered  platform,  and  liurrying  to  the 
train.  Darvid  came  out  also,  searching  with  his  eyes  for  a 
youthful  face  which  filled  his  sleepless  nights  with  care. 
At  first  he  could  not  find  it,  but  when  many  people  had 

107 


The  Argonauts 

entered  the  train,  those  assembled  for  the  passive  role 
of  spectators  formed  a  group  and  turned  their  glances 
toward  one  point  upon  the  platform.  There  in  the  hands 
of  a  number  of  people  bloomed  a  garden  of  beautiful 
flowers,  and  near  them  two  persons  were  conversing  with 
great  animation.  The  opera  singer  was  an  Italian,  a 
beautiful  brunette,  with  eyes  blazing  like  dark  stars. 
Conversing  with  her  in  her  own  language  was  a  young 
man,  younger  than  she,  very  youthful,  light  -  haired, 
shapely,  elegantly  dressed.  At  some  steps  from  this  pair, 
in  a  careless  posture,  with  an  unoccupied  air,  stood  Baron 
Emil,  fragile  and  red-haired. 

The  bell,  summoning  passengers,  was  heard  in  the  frosty 
air  for  the  second  time.  The  lady,  with  a  charming  smile, 
bowed  in  sign  of  farewell,  and  made  a  step  toward  the  train, 
but  the  young  man  barred  the  way  with  a  movement  made 
adroitly,  talking  meanwhile,  and  holding  her  under  the  de- 
termined glance  of  his  blue  eyes.  Without  showing  alarm 
she  delayed,  smiled,  and  listened. 

Darvid  stood  on  the  platform,  lost  in  that  crowd  of  the 
curious,  and  snatches  of  conversation  struck  his  ear. 

"  She  will  not  go!  "  said  one  man. 

"  She  will!    There  is  time  enough  yet!  "  said  another. 

''  He  detains  her  purposely,  so  that  she  may  not  go." 

"  He  does,  for  she  is  beautiful.  Her  smile  is  as  charm- 
ing as  her  song." 

"  He  is  a  daring  boy,"  said  some  third  man  near  Darvid's 
other  ear.  "  Look,  look,  how  he  talks  her  down  purposely — 
poor  woman,  she  will  go  back  to  the  city  beaten." 

"  But  no!    That  would  be  an  impoliteness  on  his  part." 

"  Who  is  this  handsome  young  man  with  golden  hair?  " 
asked  some  woman. 

"  Young  Darvid.  The  son  of  the  great  financier.  How 
young!    He  is  a  child." 

108 


The  Argonauts 

"  A  man  with  millions  ripens  quickly,  like  a  peach  in 
sunlight." 

"  What  language  are  they  speaking?  I  cannot  hear,  but  it 
is  not  French." 

"  Italian;  she  is  Italian." 

"  But  he  chatters  in  that  language  as  if  he  were  her 
compatriot." 

"  Millions  are  like  the  tongues  at  Pentecost,"  said  the 
man  who  had  mentioned  peaches,  "  whoever  is  touched  by 
them  speaks  every  language  on  earth  right  away." 

All  the  passengers  had  vanished  in  the  cars,  the  doors 
of  which  were  fastened  now  with  loud  clinking.  This  time 
the  opera  singer  stepped  forward  quickly,  but  young  Darvid 
spoke  a  few  words  which  brought  to  her  face  astonishment 
and  the  most  beautiful  smile  in  the  world;  she  nodded, 
agreed  to  something,  gave  thanks  for  something  in  the  same 
way  that  kindly  queens  consent  to  receive  marks  of  the 
highest  honor  from  their  subjects. 

In  the  crowd  surrounding  Darvid  someone  laughed: 

"  Ah,  he  is  a  stunning  fellow!  he  will  not  let  her  go!  " 

"  How  handsome  he  is,  that  young  Darvid! "  said  a 
woman. 

"  He  looks  like  a  young  prince,"  added  another. 

"  But  what  will  come  of  this  ?    She  will  not  go." 

"She  will  go!" 

"  She  will  not  go!  " 

"  I  will  bet!  " 

"I  will  bet!" 

In  a  moment  a  number  of  bets  were  made  behind  Darvid 
as  to  whether  the  woman,  who  Avas  talking  to  his  son,  would 
go  from  the  city  that  day  or  not.  On  his  thin  lips  a  smile 
of  satisfaction  appeared,  the  eyes  from  behind  his  glasses 
looked  at  his  son  with  an  expression  which  was  almost  mild. 

109 


The  Argonauts 

A  young  prince!  Yes,  that  is  true.  What  freedom  of 
manner,  what  grace!  What  fine  disregard  for  the  common 
throng  gazing  at  him!  Triumphant  even  with  women! 
That  woman,  famous  throughout  Europe,  is  simply  devour- 
ing him  with  those  black  eyes  of  hers. 

The  bell  was  heard  on  the  platform  for  the  third  time, 
and  at  the  same  moment  a  prolonged  whistle  pierced  the 
air.  The  wheels  of  the  train  began  to  turn  with  a  slow, 
measured  movement. 

"  It  is  over!  "  cried  someone  in  the  crowd.  "  She  has  not 
gone!  " 

"  I  have  lost  the  bet !  "  said  a  number  of  voices. 

"How  splendid  that  that  handsome  youth  has  carried 
his  point,"  said  a  woman. 

Meanwhile,  from  the  remotest  end  of  the  platform,  new 
whistling  of  a  locomotive  came  up,  and  the  measured  beat 
of  wheels  on  the  rails  was  heard;  at  some  distance  a  cer- 
tain black  mass  appeared,  it  pushed  forward  faster  and 
faster,  until  under  the  smoke  came  out  clearly  the  cylinder 
of  a  locomotive,  drawing  behind  it  a  short  row  of  wagons. 
This  was  the  train,  and  small,  fresh,  elegant.  This  train 
glittered  in  the  sunlight  with  its  yellow  brass  fittings, 
gleamed  in  its  sapphire-colored  varnish.  Its  rich  interior, 
with  cushions  of  purple  velvet,  was  visible  through  the 
windows.  A  conductor  opened  the  door  of  a  car  and  stood 
near  it  in  an  expectant  position.  Maryan,  with  a  motion 
of  request,  indicated  it  to  the  celebrated  singer. 

Now  the  people  standing  on  the  platform  understood 
everything,  and  fell  into  enthusiasm.  The  spirit,  which 
rose  to  that  plan  and  threw  out  a  large  sum  of  money  for 
the  sake  of  it,  struck  the  imagination  and  roused  the  sym- 
pathy of  people  inclined  to  gold  and  strange  acts,  without 
reference  to  their  object  or  value.     On  the  platform  was 

110 


The  Argonauts 

heard  the  sharp  clapping  of  some  tens  of  hands,  and  soon 
after  the  locomotive  whistled  once  more,  and  that  small, 
special  train  pushed  forward  into  space,  only  five  minutes 
later  than  the  regular  train  which  preceded  it. 

Darvid  stood  near  the  door  of  the  station  whence  he 
could  see  his  son,  who  passed  with  slow  step  along  a  part 
of  the  platform.  And  he  looked  at  him  with  unquiet  curi- 
osity, for  something  unexpected  in  Maryan  astonished  him. 
In  contradiction  to  what  one  might  expect,  and  which 
seemed  natural,  there  was  not  in  the  expression  of  face  and 
the  movements  of  Maryan  either  the  pleasure  of  youth  at 
something  accomplished,  or  sorrow  at  the  departure  of  the 
woman,  for  whom  he  had  accomplished  it.  Wlien  a  mo- 
ment before  applause  was  heard  on  the  platform,  he  looked 
around  and  cast  on  the  hand-clapping  crowd  a  passing  glance, 
as  indifferent  as  if  they  were  an  object  not  worthy  of  con- 
tempt, even.  Now,  too,  his  whole  person  expressed  perfect 
indifference,  nay,  even  annoyance,  which  contracted  his  lips, 
and  yellowed  the  rosiness  of  his  round  cheeks  somewhat. 
In  his  blue  eyes,  fixed  glassily  on  the  distance,  was  depicted 
something  like  dissatisfaction,  or  a  feeling  of  disappointment, 
a  dreaming,  or  a  pondering  in  vain  over  deceitful  visions 
which  pass  over  space,  but  which  no  one  can  seize  upon. 
He  did  not  see  his  father,  for  his  glassy  eyes  were  looking 
far  away  at  some  point.  Even  the  baron  did  not  see  Darvid; 
he  was  searching  for  something  in  his  pocketbook  carefully, 
till  he  took  out  a  ten-rouble  note  and  threw  it  at  the  porters 
who  had  borne  in  the  baggage  and  flowers  of  the  prima- 
donna.  At  the  same  time  he  cast  these  words  through  his 
teeth  at  them: 

"  I  have  no  small  money!  " 

Maryan,  without  rousing  himself  from  thought,  said,  as 
if  mechanically: 

111 


The  Argonauts 


"It  is  wonderful! " 

"  What?  "  asked  the  baron. 

"  That  everything  in  the  world  is  so  little,  so  little." 

"  Except  my  appetite,  which  is  immense  at  this  moment," 
cried  the  baron. 

"  But  those  fabulous  sums  which  Maryan  must  expend!  " 
thought  Darvid  going  to  his  carriage;  before  he  reached  it 
he  heard  other  snatches  of  conversation: 

"  To  throw  away  so  much  money  for  a  few  moments' 
talk  with  a  beautiful  woman — that  is  a  character!  " 

"  It  promises  trouble,  does  it  not?  " 

"  Especially  for  papa." 

"  He  has  as  many  debts,  no  doubt,  as  curly  hairs  on  his 
head." 

"  He  borrows,  of  course,  on  the  security  of  papa's 
pocket." 

"  Or  his  death." 

Others  said: 

"In  such  hands  ill-gotten  gains  will  go  to  the  devil 
quickly." 

"  Why  ill-gotten  gains?  " 

"  Well,  can  you  imagine  Saint  Francis  of  Assisi  making 
millions?  " 

While  his  carriage  was  rolling  along  the  streets  of  the 
city,  Darvid's  head  was  full  of  conflicting  ideas.  True,  true; 
that  green  youth  had  a  special  capacity  for  devouring  the 
golden  sands  of  Pactolus!  But  in  what  a  charming  and 
princely  fashion  he  did  that!  Darvid  was  proud  of  his  son, 
and  at  the  same  time  greatly  dismayed  and  troubled;  for 
this  could  not  last.  That  lad  was  making  debts  in  view  of — 
his  father's  death.  And  this  absolute  idleness!  What  good 
was  a  man  who  did  nothing?  The  results  also  of  idleness 
were  evident  in  him:  a  certain  premature  withering,  a  cer- 

112 


The  Argonauts 

tain  dreaming  without  object — a  handsome  fellow!  he  looked 
as  if  born  to  a  princely  coronet.  As  Darvid  was  ascending 
the  marble  steps  of  his  mansion  he  said  to  the  Swiss: 

"  When  Pan  Maryan  comes  home  say  that  I  request  him 
to  come  to  me." 

Darvid  passed  an  hour  or  more  in  his  study,  alone,  over 
papers,  writing,  taking  notes,  examining  various  accounts, 
and  letters;  but  over  his  face,  from  time  to  time,  ran  a  dis- 
agreeable quiver,  and  the  nervous  movements  of  his  hand 
caused  sheets  of  paper  to  rustle  unpleasantly.  At  last  the 
door  of  the  antechamber  opened  and  Maryan  appeared,  hat 
in  hand. 

"  Good-day,  my  father,"  began  he  on  entering.  "  I  am 
glad  that  you  invited  me,  for  it  is  long  since  I  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  talking  with  you.  "We  both  have  been  greatly 
occupied.  For  some  weeks  Bianca  Biannetti  has  taken 
all  my  time." 

He  was  perfectly  unconstrained,  though  not  at  all  glad- 
some in  his  manner.  Darvid,  standing  at  the  round  table, 
looked  at  his  son  quickly. 

"  Are  you  in  love  with  that  singer?  "  asked  he. 

Only  then  did  Maryan  laugh  unaffectedly,  almost  loudly. 

"  What  a  question,  my  father;  love  is  a  sanctuary,  built 
on  a  poppy-seed;  love  then  is  sacred;  while  my  fancy 
for  that  beautiful  Bianca " 

"  Is  a  poppy-seed  which  you  arc  transporting  through  the 
world  on  special  trains,"  finished  Darvid. 

"  Have  you  heard  of  that,  father?  " 

"  I  have  seen  it." 

"  Ah,  you  were  at  the  station!  Strange  that  I  did  not 
see  you." 

He  made  a  gesture  of  contempt  with  his  hand. 

"  I  was  disappointed.    I  planned  that  surprise  for  Bianca, 

113 


The  Argonauts 

and  felt  sure  of  a  lively  pleasure.  When  the  time  came  I 
convinced  myself  that  the  affair  was  a  trifle,  not  new,  and, 
like  everything,  stupid.  So  it  is  always:  what  imagination 
builds  up  in  a  long  time,  criticism  overturns  in  a  twinkle. 
It  is  impossible  to  invent  anything  important.  The  world 
is  so  aged  that  it  has  come  to  us  a  worn-out  old  rag." 

He  took  a  seat  on  one  of  the  armchairs  surrounding  the 
table,  and  put  his  hat  on  the  carpet.  Darvid  replied  with- 
out changing  his  posture: 

"  Nothing  wonderful;  when  imagination  builds  up  stu- 
pidities criticism  overturns  the  building  in  a  twinkle " 

"  Who  can  be  sure  that  he  is  building  up  wisdom?  "  in- 
terrupted Maryan. 

Then,  taking  a  cigarette-case  from  his  pocket,  he  asked: 

"  Do  you  permit,  father?  "  Then,  handing  the  cigarette- 
ease,  with  great  poHteness,  to  Darvid,  he  added: 

"  But,  perhaps,  you  will  smoke  also?  " 

Darvid,  with  thick  wrinkles  between  his  brows,  shook  his 
head  and  sat  down. 

"  Why  did  you  leave  the  university  soon  after  I  went 
away?"  asked  he.  "I  inquired  of  you  touching  this  sev- 
eral times  by  letter,  but  you  have  never  given  me  a  definite 
answer." 

"I  beg  pardon  for  that,  father,  but  I  am  wonderfully 
slow  in  writing  letters.  I  will  explain  all  to  you  willingly 
in  words " 

Darvid  interrupted: 

"  I  have  no  time  for  long  talk,  so  tell  me  at  once.  Have 
you  no  love  for  science?  " 

Maryan  let  out  a  streak  of  smoke  from  his  lips,  and  spoke 
with  deliberation: 

"  I  feel  no  repugnance  whatever  toward  science.  I  read 
much,  and  mental  curiosity  is  just  one  of  the  most  emphatic 

114 


The  Argonauts 

traits  of  my  individuality.  In  childhood  I  swallowed  books 
in  monumental  numbers,  but  I  have  never  learned  school 
lessons.  All  were  astonished  at  this,  and  still  the  thing 
is  simple,  it  lies  quite  on  the  surface.  Common  individu- 
alities yield  to  rules,  but  energetic  and  higher  ones  will 
not  endure  them.  Kules  and  duty  are  stables  in  which 
humanity  confines  its  beasts,  to  prevent  them  from  injur- 
ing fields  under  culture.  Cattle  and  sheep  stand  patiently 
in  the  enclosures,  higher  organisms  break  them  down  and 
go  out  into  freedom,  I  need  absolute  freedom  in  all 
things;  and,  therefore,  I  stopped  going  to  inns  of  science, 
which  give  out  this  science  at  stated  hours,  in  certain 
sorts  and  doses.  Though,  even  in  this  regard,  I  showed 
many  good  intentions,  owing  to  the  entreaties  and  per- 
suasions of  mamma.  From  legal  studies  I  betook  myself 
to  the  study  of  nature,  and  turned  from  that  to  philoso- 
phy, thinking  that  something  would  occupy  me,  and  that 
I  should  be  able  to  still  that  real  storm  of  desperation 
which  seized  poor  mamma.  But  I  was  not  able.  The 
professors  were  contemptible,  my  fellow-students  a  rabble. 
Society  relations  amused  me  in  those  days,  and  occupied 
me:  imagination  swept  me  farther  and  higher.  So  I 
stopped  a  labor  which  was  annoying  and  irritating,  and 
which,  moreover,  had  no  object." 

He  quenched  his  cigarette  stump  in  the  ash-pan,  and, 
sinking  again  into  the  deep  armchair,  continued: 

"  So  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  observe,  people  study 
science  regularly  for  one  of  two  purposes:  either  they  in- 
tend to  devote  themselves  to  what  is  called  the  salvation 
of  mankind,  or  they  need  to  v/in  a  morsel  of  bread  for  their 
stomachs.  Neither  of  these  objects  could  be  mine;  for,  as 
to  the  first,  I  hold  the  principle  of  individuality  carried 
quite  to  anarchy.    The  so-called  salvation  of  society  is,  for 

115 


The  Argonauts 

our  decadent  epoch,  a  fable,  quite  impossible;  and  the  naked 
truth  is,  that  each  man  lives  for  himself,  and  in  his  own 
fashion.  The  man  whom  fate  serves  well  passes  his  life 
in  a  manner  more  or  less  agreeable;  if  it  serves  him  ill — he 
perishes.  Luck,  and  the  chance  meeting  of  causes,  arranges 
everything.  It  is  impossible  to  turn  the  earth  into  a  general 
paradise,  just  as  it  is  to  change  a  small  planet  into  an  im- 
mense one.  The  salvation  of  society  is  one  of  the  narcotics 
invented  to  lull  the  sufferings  of  people.  Altruists  possess 
a  whole  drug-shop  of  these  narcotics;  whoever  wishes  has 
the  right  to  use  them;  but,  as  for  me,  I  prefer  not  to  be 
lulled  to  sleep.  I  am  an  individualist,  and  do  not  under- 
stand why  Pavel  must  suffer  for  the  purpose  of  decreasing 
the  pains  of  Gavel.  Let  Gavel,  as  well  as  Pavel,  think  of 
himself;  and,  if  they  are  clever,  they  will  both  help  them- 
selves somehow  without  turning  to  labelled  bottles.  This 
is  my  conviction  about  one  of  the  objects  for  which  people 
make  regular  studies  in  science.    As  to  the  other " 

He  took  out  his  cigarette-case  again,  and,  lighting  a 
cigarette,  finished: 

"  As  to  the  other  object,  that  is  a  simple  thing;  since  being 
your  son,  my  father,  I  shall  not  need  to  bake  my  own  bread. 
Such  is  my  confession  of  faith  which  I  have  laid  down  before 
you;  all  the  more  readily  since  I  have  long  cherished  a 
genuine  reverence  for  your  strength  of  mind  and  independ- 
ence. I  am  certain,  too,  that  by  no  one  could  I  be  under- 
stood better  than  by  you,  my  father." 

He  was  mistaken.  The  man  to  whom  he  was  talking  so 
fluently  and  politely  did  not  understand  him  in  any  sense. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  perhaps,  Darvid  did  not 
understand  the  person  with  whom  he  was  talking.  The 
millionnaire  was  astounded.  He  had  expected  to  find  a  frivo- 
lous youth,  whom  passions  had  pushed  into  extravagance  and 

116 


The  Argonauts 

idleness;  meanwhile,  a  reasoning,  disenchanted  sage  sat  be- 
fore him,  with  bitterness  on  his  lips  and  irony  in  his  speech 
and  eyes.  That  sonr  wisdom,  the  measureless  belief  in  him- 
self and  his  opinions,  with  the  independence  which  accom- 
panied it,  were  found  in  a  slender,  delicate,  and  rosy-faced 
youth,  with  eyes  as  blue  as  forget-me-nots,  and  came  from 
lips  slightly  faded,  but  marked  by  a  tiny,  youthful  nious- 
t-ache.  Besides,  the  perfect  elegance  of  manner,  the  esthetic 
cism  and  irreproachable  grace  in  movements,  in  voice,  in 
compliments,  the  utterance  of  which  he  rounded  very  beau- 
tifully. 

Darvid  was  astounded.  He  had  found  no  time  in  his 
life  to  observe  the  new  directions  which  thought  and  char- 
acter were  taking  in  the  world;  nor  for  observing  the 
changed  forms  in  which  time  moulds  the  various  generations 
of  mankind.  He  was  dumbfounded,  speechless,  and  only 
after  a  while  did  an  ironical  smile  appear  on  his  lips — that 
lad  with  his  theories  was  absurd! 

"  All  that  you  have  said  is  simply  ridiculous.  You  are 
making  a  principle  out  of  a  thorough  absence  of  principles. 
At  your  age  such  opinions  and  such  coolness  are  incredible. 
At  your  age,  which  is  almost  that  of  a  child,  and  with  your 
scant  training,  they  are,  out  and  out,  ridiculous." 

Maryan,  with  a  quick  movement,  raised  his  head  and 
looked  with  astonishment  at  his  father.  He,  too,  had  ex- 
pected something  entirely  different. 

"  Eidiculous!  "  cried  he;  "  what  does  this  mean,  father? 
This  is  not  argument.  I  felt  sure  that  we  should  agree  per- 
fectly. With  the  profoundest  astonishment  I  sec  that  tliis 
is  not  tlie  case.  How  is  it,  my  father,  then,  you  do  not  take 
up  the  motto:  each  for  himself,  and  in  his  own  way?  Still, 
it  is  impossible  for  any  man  to  carry  contempt  for  all  painted 
pots  farther  than  you  do;  than  you  have  carried  it  all  your 

117 


The  Argonauts 

life.  But,  perhaps,  this  difference  in  our  opinions  is  only 
apparent  ?  I  beg  you  to  give  me  argument.  The  charge  of 
ridiculousness  is  not  argument.  I  may  be  ridiculous,  and 
be  right.  A  lack  of  principles  ?  Very  well;  principles  form 
one  of  the  most  brightly  painted  of  all  pots,  and,  therefore, 
it  is  most  difficult  to  see  the  clay.  But,  never  mind;  I  ask 
for  a  closer  description.  What  principles  do  you  value, 
father?" 

Darvid,  with  a  strong  quiver  in  his  face,  answered: 

"  What?    Oh,  moral.    Naturally,  moral  principles " 

"  Yes,  yes,  but  I  ask  for  an  accurate  definition.  What  are 
they  called;  what  are  the  names  of  those  principles?  " 

Darvid  was  silent.  What  are  they  called?  Was  he  a 
priest,  or  a  governess,  to  break  his  head  over  such  questions? 
If  it  were  a  question  of  law,  mathematics,  architecture, 
guilds,  banks — but  he  had  never  occupied  himself  with 
morals;  he  had  not  had  the  time.  A  deep  anger  began  to 
possess  him,  and  his  words  hissed  somewhat  through  his 
lips;  when,  after  some  silence,  he  added: 

"  My  dear,  you  have  made  a  mistake  in  the  address.  It  is 
not  the  office  of  a  father  to  instil  moral  principles  into  chil- 
dren. That  is  the  province  of  mothers.  Fathers  have  no 
time  for  that  work.  Go  back  in  memory  to  your  childhood; 
recall  the  principles  which  your  mother  implanted  in  you, 
and  you  will  find  an  answer  to  your  question." 

Maryan  laughed. 

"  What  you  say,  father,  reminds  me  of  one  of  my  friends 
who  writes  books.  A  poor  devil,  but  we  receive  him  into 
our  set,  for  he  has  talent — that  legitimizes.  Well,  on  a 
time,  someone  asked  him:  '  What  do  you  do  when,  in  writ- 
ing, you  meet  a  difficulty  ? '  'I  try  to  overcome  it,'  an- 
swered he.  *But  if  you  can't  overcome  it?'  'Then  I 
dodge;  or,  I  run  to  one  side  like  a  rabbit,  and  avoid  say- 

118 


The  Argonauts 

ing  that  which  I  know  not  hoAV  to  say/  Well,  you  have 
acted,  dear  father,  like  this  author.  You  have  dodged! 
Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

He  laughed,  but  Darvid  grew  gloomier  anl  stiffer.  It 
was  strange,  but  true,  that  in  presence  of  that  professor  he 
felt  himself  more  and  more  a  pupil. 

"Let  us  leave  poor,  dear  mamma  in  peace,"  continued 
Maryan.  "  She  is  the  impersonation  of  charm  and  sweet- 
ness. If  there  is  still  anything  of  tliis  sort  which  for  me  is 
not  a  painted  pot  yet,  it  is  the  tenderness  which  I  feel  for 
mamma.  She  has  spoken  to  me  often,  indeed;  and  she 
speaks,  even  now,  of  principles,  but  the  best  and  dearest  of 
women  is  only  a  woman.  Sentiment,  routine,  and,  besides, 
want  of  logic:  theory  without  end  and  practice  nowhere,  is 
not  that  the  case  with  women?  You  know  them  better 
than  I,  father;  for  you  have  had  more  time  to  explore 
this  part  of  the  universe." 

His  azure  eyes  gUttered  with  sparks;  his  golden  curls  fell 
low  on  his  white  forehead;  and  from  his  lips,  shaded  by  a 
tiny  mustache,  the  words  came  out  with  increasing  boldness 
and  fluency,  and  more  thickly  intermingled  with  a  sarcastic 
smile: 

"  As  for  me,  were  I  an  old  maid,  I  should  become  a  Sister 
of  Charity;  for  that  office  has  always  a  certain  position  in 
the  world,  and  the  stiff  bonnet  casts  a  saving  shadow  on 
wrinkles.  Since  I  am  who  I  am,  I  think  thus  of  princi- 
ples: they  depend  on  the  place;  the  time;  the  geographical 
position;  and  the  evolution  which  society  is  accomplishing. 
If  the  heavens  had  created  me  an  ancient  Greek,  my  princi- 
ple would  have  been  to  battle  for  freedom  against  Asiatics, 
and  to  be  enamoured  of  a  beautiful  boy.  If  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  I  should  have  fought  for  the  lienor  of  my  lady  and 
burnt  men  alive  on  blazing  piles.    In  the  Orient,  I  should 

119 


The  Argonauts 

possess,  openly,  a  number  of  wives,  accommodated  only  to 
my  wish;  in  the  West,  principle  commands  a  man  to  pretend 
that  he  has  only  one  wife.  In  Europe,  it  is  my  duty  to 
honor  my  father  and  mother;  in  the  Fiji  Islands  it  would  he 
criminal  for  me  not  to  put  them  to  death  at  the  proper 
moment.  AYretched  makeup — hash,  with  which  our  age  does 
not  wish  now  to  feed  itself.  Our  age  is  too  old,  and  its 
palate  is  too  practised,  not  to  distinguish  figs  from  pome- 
granates. We  children  of  an  advanced  age,  decadents,  know 
well  that  man  may  win  much,  but  will  never  gain  absolute 
truth.  It  does  not  exist.  All  things  are  relative.  My  only 
principle  is,  that  I  exist,  and  use  my  will,  my  only  interest 
is  to  know  how  to  will.  Many  other  things  might  be 
said,  but  what  use?  Still,  I  will  add  to  what  is  already 
said.  You,  my  father,  are  an  uncommonly  wise  man.  You 
must  think,  therefore,  just  as  I  do;  you  speak  differently 
only  because  people  have  the  habit  of  talking  in  that  way — 
to  children! " 

Darvid  seemed  to  hear  this  speech  out,  only  mechanically; 
and  when  Maryan,  with  a  short  and  somewhat  sharp  laugh, 
pronounced  the  last  words  and  was  silent,  the  following 
words  broke  from  him  more  quickly  than  words  had  ever 
left  his  mouth  before: 

"  Not  true.  You  are  greatly  mistaken.  I  think  and  act 
differently  from  what  you  say.  I  have  not  had  time  to 
meditate  over  the  theory  of  principles;  but  all  my  life  has 
rested  on  one  of  them — on  labor.  Skilled  and  iron  labor 
was  my  principle,  and  it  has  made  me  what  I  am " 

"  Pardon  me  for  interrupting,"  exclaimed  Maryan.  "  I 
beg  you  earnestly,  but  permit  one  question :  What  was  the 
object  of  your  labor?  What  was  the  object?  That  will 
settle  everything;  for  a  principle  can  be  found  only  in  the 
object,  not  in  the  labor,  which  is  only  the  means  of  obtain- 

120 


The  Argonauts 

ing  an  end.  What  was  your  object,  my  father?  Of  course, 
it  was  not  the  salvation  of  the  world,  but  the  satisfaction  of 
your  own  desires — your  own — not  any  put  on  you  before- 
hand, and  accepted  obediently;  but  your  own  individual  de- 
sires. The  object  of  them  was  great  wealth — a  high  posi- 
tion. Through  labor  you  strive  to  acquire  these,  and  I  do 
not  see  here  any  principle  except  that  which  I  myself  pos- 
sess— namely :  it  is  necessary  to  know  how  to  will.  In  the 
very  essence  of  things  we  agree;  only  I,  with  the  sincerest 
homage,  have  recognized  in  you  a  master.  Frequently  have 
I  thought  with  what  perfect  logic,  with  what  unbending 
will,  you  have  freed  yourself  from  the  labels  which  other 
men,  even  wise  ones  for  the  period,  have  never  ceased  from 
pasting  on  their  persons.  If  in  your  career  you  had  knocked 
against  painted  pots,  labelled:  birthplace,  fatherland,  hu- 
manity, charity,  etc.,  you  would  have  gone  at  considerably 
less  speed,  and  not  gone  so  far.  But  you  were  astonishingly 
logical.  With  amazing  strength  and  unsparingness  you  have 
known  how  to  will.  It  is  from  this  point  precisely  that  I 
looked,  and  I  was  filled  with  real  admiration.  During  your 
absence,  of  more  than  three  years,  I  called  you  frequently, 
in  thought,  a  superhuman.  Friederich  N^ietsche  imagined 
such  men  as  you  when " 

He  stopped  here,  raising  a  glance  full  of  astonishment  at 
his  father's  face.  Darvid,  very  pale,  with  quivering  temples, 
stood  up,  leaned  firmly  on  the  table,  and  said: 

"Enough!" 

Unable  to  conceal  the  violent  emotion  which  he  felt,  under 
an  ironical  tone  and  laugh,  he  continued: 

"  Enough  of  this  mockery  of  reasoning  and  argument, 
and  of  all  this  empty  twaddle.  If  it  was  your  intention  to 
pass  an  examination  before  me,  I  give  you  five  with  plus. 
You  have  fluent  speech,  and  quite  a  rich  vocabulary  of 

121 


The  Argonauts 

words.  But  I  have  no  time  for  those  things  and  proceed 
to  facts  and  figures.  The  Ufe  which  you  are  leading  is  im- 
possible, and  you  must  change.  You  must  begin  another 
life." 

Pie  put  emphasis  on  the  word  must.  Maryan  looked  at 
his  father  with  an  amazement  which  seemed  to  take  away 
his  speech. 

"  You  have  not  ended  your  twenty-third  year  yet,  and  the 
history  of  your  romances  has  acquired  broad  notoriety  in  the 
world  a  number  of  times " 

Maryan  recovered  from  his  amazement  slowly. 

"  Affairs  so  completely  personal "  began  he  with  a 

hesitating  voice. 

Darvid,  paying  no  attention  to  the  interruption,  con- 
tinued: 

"  The  sum  which  you  lost  in  betting  at  the  last  races  was, 
even  for  my  fortune,  considerable — thirty  thousand." 

Maryan  had  now  almost  recovered  his  balance. 

"  If  this  shrift  is  indispensable  I  will  correct  the  figures 
— thirty-six  thousand." 

"  The  suppers  which  you  give  to  friends,  male  and  female, 
have  the  fame  of  Lucullus  feasts." 

Maryan,  with  sparks  of  hidden  irritation  in  his  eyes, 
laughed. 

"  An  exaggeration!  Our  poor  Borel  has  no  idea  of  Lucul- 
lus, but  that  he  plunders  us,  unmercifully,  is  true." 

"  He  knows  how  to  will !  "  threw  in  Darvid. 

Maryan  raised  his  eyes  to  him,  and  said: 

"  He  is  making  a  fortune." 

This  time,  in  his  turn,  astonishment  was  depicted  on  the 
face  of  Darvid,  indignant  to  that  degree  that  a  slight  flush 
appeared  on  cheeks  generally  pale. 

"Folly!  "  hissed  he,  and  immediately  restrained  himself. 
"  You  are  incurring  enormous  debts;  on  what  security?  " 

122 


The  Argonauts 

Maryan,  at  least  apparently,  had  regained  perfect  con- 
fidence in  himself.  With  eyes  slightly  blinking  he  seemed 
to  look  at  a  picture  on  the  wall. 

"  That  is  the  affair  of  my  creditors/'  said  he.  "  They 
must  have  this  in  view,  that  I  am  your  son." 

"  But  if  I  should  wish  not  to  pay  your  debts?  " 

Maryan  smiled  with  incredulity. 

"  I  doubt  that.  Such  a  smash-up,  as  refusal  to  pay  my 
debts,  would  injure  you  also,  my  father.  Besides,  the  sums 
are  not  fabulous." 

"  How  much?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  the  exact  figure,  but  approximately  they 
are " 

He  mentioned  figures.  Darvid  repeated  them  indif- 
ferently. 

"  About  a  quarter  of  a  million.  Very  good.  I  shall  be 
far  from  ruin  this  time,  but  in  future — I  make  no  re- 
proaches; for  to  do  so  would  be  to  lose  time.  What  has 
dropped  into  the  past  is  lost.  But  the  future  must  be  dif- 
ferent." 

On  the  word  must  he  laid  emphasis  again.  With  a  quick 
movement  he  put  his  glasses  on  his  nose,  and  taking  a 
cigarette  from  a  beautiful  box,  he  put  the  end  of  it  at  the 
flame  of  one  of  the  candles  burning  on  the  desk.  He  seemed 
perfectly  calm;  but  behind  his  eyeglasses  steel  sparks  flew, 
and  the  cigarette  did  not  ignite,  held  by  fingers  which 
trembled  somewhat.  Turning  from  the  desk  to  the  table,  he 
said: 

"  I  will  pay  your  debts  at  once;  and  the  pension  which, 
three  years  ago,  I  appointed  to  you — that  is  six  thousand 
yearly — I  leave  at  your  disposal.  But  you  will  leave  the  city 
two  weeks  from  now,  and  go  to " 

He  named  a  place  very  remote,  situated  in  Uie  heart  of 
the  Empire. 

123 


The  Argonauts 

"In  that  place  is  an  iron  mill,  and  also  glass-works; 
in  these  two  establishments  I  am  one  of  the  chief  share- 
holders. Yon  will  take  the  office  designated  by  the  di- 
rector, who  is  a  shareholder,  and  a  friend  of  mine;  under 
his  guidance  and  indications  you  will  begin  a  life  of  labor." 

In  Maryan's  eyes  again  appeared  amazement  without 
limit;  but  on  his  lips  quivered  a  smile  somewhat  incred- 
ulous, somewhat  Jeering. 

"What  is  this  to  be?"  asked  he.  "Penance  for  sins? 
Punishment?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Darvid;  "  only  a  school.  Not  a  school 
for  reasoning,  for  you  have  too  much  of  that  already;  but 
for  character.  You  must  learn  three  things:  economy, 
modesty,  and  labor." 

Quenching  in  the  ash-pan  the  fifth  or  sixth  cigarette, 
Mary  an  inquired: 

"  But  if — perchance — I  should  not  agree  to  enter  that 
school?" 

Darvid  answered  immediately: 

"  In  that  case  you  will  remain  here,  but  without  means  of 
independent  existence.  You  will  be  free  to  live  under  my 
roof,  and  appear  at  the  parental  table;  but  you  will  not  re- 
ceive a  personal  income  of  any  kind.  At  the  same  time,  I 
will  publish  in  the  newspapers  that  I  shall  not  pay  your 
debts  hereafter.  What  I  have  said,  I  will  do.  Take  your 
choice." 

That  he  would  do  what  he  had  said  any  man  who  saw  him 
then  might  feel  certain. 

The  bloom  on  Maryan's  cheeks  took  on  a  brick  color;  his 
eyes  filled  with  steel  sparks. 

"  The  system  of  taking  fortresses  through  famine,"  said 
he,  in  an  undertone;  and,  then  with  head  inclined  some- 
what, and  eyes  fixed  on  the  carpet,  he  said: 

124 


The  Argonauts 

"  I  am  astonished.  I  thought,  father,  that  in  spite  of  my 
seeing  you  rarely,  I  knew  you  well;  now  I  find  that  I  did 
not  know  you  at  all.  I  admired  in  you  that  power  of 
thought  which  was  able  to  strike  from  you  the  bonds  of 
every  prejudice;  now,  I  have  convinced  myself  that  your 
ideas  are  not  only  patriarchal,  but  despotic.  This  is  a  de- 
ception which  pains.  I  wonder  myself,  even,  that  this  af- 
fects me  so  powerfully;  but  in  falling  from  heights  one 
must  always  hurt,  even  the  point  of  the  nose.  This  is  one 
lesson  more  not  to  climb  heights.  I  have  in  me  a  cursed 
imagination  which  leads  me  astray.  One  more  mirage  has 
vanished;  one  more  painted  pot  has  lost  its  colors.  What 
is  to  be  done?  " 

He  said  this  in  a  low  voice,  biting  his  lower  lip  at  times; 
he  was  pained  in  reality,  and  deeply.  After  a  while  he  con- 
tinued: 

"  What  is  to  be  done?  I  must  be  resigned  to  the  disap- 
pointment which  has  met  me;  but  as  to  disposing  of  my 
person  so  absolutely,  I  protest.  Had  it  been  your  inten- 
tion, my  father,  to  make  a  mill-hand  of  me,  you  should  have 
begun  that  work  earlier.  My  individuality  is  now  developed, 
and  cannot  be  pounded  in  through  the  gate  of  a  given 
cemetery.  To  rear  me  as  a  great  lord  and  permit — even 
demand — during  a  rather  long  period  that  I  should  use  all 
the  good  things  of  society,  and  be  distinguished  most  brill- 
iantly for  your  sake,  and  then  thrust  into  a  school  of  econ- 
omy, modesty,  and  labor  is — pardon  me  if  I  call  the  thing 
by  its  name — illogical  and  devoid  of  sequence.  I  might 
even  add,  that  it  lacks  justice;  but  I  do  not  wish  to  defend 
myself  with  arguments  taken  from  painted  pots.  One 
thing  is  certain — namely  this:  that  I  shall  not  be  the  victim 
of  patriarchal  despotism." 

He  rose,  took  his  hat  from  the  carpet,  and  calmly,  ele- 

125 


The  Argonauts 

gantly,  but  with  a  brick-colored  flush  on  his  cheeks,  and  a 
bhie,  swollen  vein  on  his  forehead,  he  added: 

"  I  know  not  what  I  shall  do.  It  may  happen  me  to  be 
the  creator  of  my  own  destiny.  I  know  how  to  be  this;  and 
I  shall  decide  more  readily  to  be  a  workman  at  my  own 
will  than  at  the  will  of  another.  I  shall  surely  leave  this 
place.  Expatriation  has  come  to  my  mind  more  than  once, 
but  not  in  the  direction  in  which  you  have  seen  fit  to  in- 
dicate. Besides,  I  do  not  know  yet,  for  this  has  fallen 
suddenly.  I  shall  look  into  myself;  I  shall  look  around  me. 
Meanwhile,  I  must  go;  for  I  have  promised  one  of  my 
friends  to  be  at  a  certain  collector's  place  at  a  given  hour, 
to  examine  a  very  curious  picture.  It  is  an  original;  an  au- 
thentic Overbeck.  A  rare  thing;  a  real  find — I  take  fare- 
well of  you,  my  father." 

He  made  a  low  bow  and  went  out.  Exquisite  elegance  did 
not  desert  him  for  an  instant;  still,  in  the  expression  of  his 
face,  and  especially  his  excited  complexion,  and  his  voice, 
too,  indignation  and  distress  were  evident  in  a  degree  which 
bordered  on  suffering. 

The  door  of  the  antechamber  opened  and  closed.  Darvid 
was  as  if  petrified.  What  was  this?  What  had  happened? 
Was  it  possible  that  this  should  be  the  end  of  the  conversa- 
tion, and  that  such  a  conversation  should  end  in  Overbeck, 
and  a  perfectly  elegant  bow?  Wonderful  man!  Yes,  for 
that  was  no  petulant  child,  with  childish  requests,  evasions, 
outbursts;  but  a  premature  man,  almost  an  old  man.  A  rea- 
soner;  a  pessimist;  a  sceptic.  A  genial  head!  What  ele- 
gance! What  command  of  self.  A  princely  exterior.  Mar- 
vellous man!  What  could  he  do  with  him?  If  he  had 
asked  for  forgiveness;  had  promised,  in  part,  even  to 
accommodate  himself  to  his  father's  wishes;  even  to  change 
his  life  a  little.     But  this  iron  persistence  and  unshaken 

126 


The  Argonauts 

confidence  in  himself,  joined  with  perfect  politeness,  and 
with  reason  which  would  not  yield  a  step!  What  was  to  be 
done  with  him?  Fortresses  are  taken  sometimes  through 
famine;  but,  suppose  it  is  resolved  on  everything  except 
yielding.  Well,  he  would  try;  he  would  keep  his  word;  he 
would  see. 

A  servant  at  the  door  announced: 

"  The  horses  are  ready." 

He  was  invited  to  dine  at  the  house  of  one  of  the  greatest 
dignitaries  in  the  city.  He  would  have  given  much  to  re- 
main that  day  in  quiet.  But  he  had  to  go.  In  his  position 
— with  his  business — to  offend  such  a  personage  might  in- 
volve results  that  would  be  very  disagreeable.  Besides,  he 
would  meet  someone  there  whose  good  will  also  was  neces- 
sary. He  did  not  wish  to  go;  but  he  would  do  violence  to 
himself  and  go.  Is  not  that  the  firm  and  strict  observance 
of  principle?  What  had  that  milksop  said?  That  he  did 
not  recognize  principles,  and  would  not  observe  them? 
Who  could  treat  himself  more  sternly  and  mercilessly  than 
he?  How  many  of  the  most  beautiful  flowers  of  life  had 
he  cast  aside;  how  many  sleepless  nights  had  he  passed,  and 
borne  even  physical  toil  for  the  principle  of  untiring  labor 
— merciless  iron  labor! 

In  a  dress-coat,  his  bosom  covered  with  the  finest  of 
linen,  and  with  glittering  diamond  buttons,  vnth  ruddy 
side-whiskers,  a  pale  anl  lean  face,  unbending,  irreproach- 
able in  dress,  and  correct  in  posture,  he  stood  in  the  mid- 
dle of  his  study,  and  was  drawing  on  his  light  gloves  very 
slowly.  Taking  his  hat  he  thought  that  he  felt  a  decided 
sourness  and  a  bitterness  in  his  person,  which  would  make 
the  most  famous  dishes,  on  the  table  of  the  dignitary,  ill- 
tasting.  What  was  to  be  done?  He  had  to  go.  Principle 
beyond  all  things  else! 

127 


The  Argonauts 

When  he  was  descending  the  stairway,  in  his  fiir-eoat  and 
hat,  he  heard  the  rustle  of  silk  garments  on  the  first  landing, 
and  a  rather  loud  conversation  in  English.  He  recognized 
the  voices  of  his  elder  daughter  and  Baron  Emil;  but  he 
saw  Malvina  first;  she  was  in  front  of  the  young  couple. 
With  elegant  politeness  he  pushed  up  to  the  wall  so  that 
his  wife  might  have  more  room,  and  raising  his  hat,  with 
the  most  agreeable  smile  which  his  lips  could  give,  he  asked: 

"  The  ladies  are  coming  from  visits,  of  course?  " 

There  were  witnesses  of  the  meeting.  Malvina, 
wrapped  in  a  fur,  the  white  edges  of  which  appeared  from 
under  deep  black  velvet,  answered,  also  with  a  smile : 

"  Yes,  we  have  made  some  visits," 

But  Irene,  who  was  standing  some  steps  lower,  caught 
up  the  conversation  with  a  vivacity  unusual  for  her. 

"  We  are  coming  just  now  from  the  shops,  where  we  met 
the  baron." 

"  What  are  your  plans  for  the  evening?  "  inquired  Darvid 
again. 

"  We  shall  remain  at  home,''  answered  Malvina. 

"  How  is  that  ? — but  the  party  at  Prince  and  Princess 
Zeno's! " 

"  We  had  no  intention — "  said  Malvina,  in  an  attempt 
at  self-defence;  but  she  saw  the  look  of  her  husband,  and 
the  voice  broke  in  her  throat. 

"  You  and  your  daughter  will  go  to  that  party,"  said  he, 
with  a  low  whisper,  which  hissed  from  his  lips.  And 
immediately  he  added  aloud,  with  a  smile:  "  Ladies,  I  ad- 
vise you  to  be  at  that  party." 

Malvina  became  almost  as  white  as  the  fur  which  en- 
circled her  neck,  and  at  that  moment  Irene  asked: 

"Will  you  be  there,  father?" 

"  I  will  run  in  for  a  while.    As  usual,  I  have  no  time." 

128 


The  Argonauts 

"  What  a  pity,"  said  Baron  Emil,  "  that  I  cannot  offer 
you  a  part  of  mine  as  a  gift.  In  this  regard  I  am  a  regular 
Dives." 

"  And  I  a  beggar!  For  this  reason  I  must  take  farewell 
of  you." 

He  raised  his  hat  and  had  begun  to  descend  when  he 
heard  Irene's  voice  behind  him,  calling: 

"My  father!" 

She  told  her  mother  and  the  baron  that  she  wished  to 
exchange  a  few  words  with  her  father,  and  ran  down  the 
steps.  The  splendid  entrance  was  empty  and  brightly 
lighted  with  lamps;  but  the  liveried  Swiss,  at  sight  of  the 
master  of  the  house,  stood  with  his  hand  on  the  latch  of  the 
glass  door.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  a  tall  young  lady,  in  a 
black  cloak  lined  with  fur,  very  formal  and  very  pale,  began 
to  speak  French: 

"  Pardon  me,  that  in  a  place  so  unfitting,  I  must  tell  you 
that  the  ball,  of  which  you  have  spoken  to  Cara,  cannot  take 
place  this  winter." 

Darvid,  greatly  astonished,  inquired: 

"  Why?  " 

Irene's  blue  eyes  glittered  under  the  fantastic  rim  of  her 
hat,  as  she  answered: 

"  Because  the  very  thought  of  that  ball  has  disturbed 
mamma  greatly." 

After  a  moment  of  silence  Darvid  asked,  slowly: 

"  Has  your  mother  conceived  a  distaste  for  amusements?  " 

"  Yes,  father,  and  I  need  not  enlighten  you  as  to  the 
cause  of  this  feeling.  There  are  people  who  cannot  amuse 
themselves  in  certain  positions." 

"  In  certain  positions?   In  what  position  is  your  mother?  " 

Ho  made  this  inquiry  in  a  voice  betraying  a  fear  which 
he  could  not  conceal.     This  thought  was  sounding  in  his 

129 


The  Argonauts 

head:  "Can  she  know  it?"  But  Irene  said,  in  a  voice 
ahnost  husky: 

"  You  and  I  both  know  her  position  well,  father — but  as 
to  this  ball " 

"  This  ball,"  interrupted  Darvid,  "  is  necessary  to  me  for 
various  reasons,  and  will  take  place  in  our  house  after  a  few 
weeks." 

"  Oh,  my  father,"  said  Irene,  with  a  nervous,  dry  laugh, 
"  je  vous  adresse  ma  sommation  respedueuse,  that  it  should 
not  take  place!  Mamma  and  I  are  greatly  opposed  to  it; 
therefore,  I  have  permitted  myself  to  detain  you  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  say — "  The  smile  disappeared  entirely  from  her 
lips  when  she  finished;  "  and  say  to  you  that  this  ball  will 
not  take  place." 

"What  does  this  mean?"  began  Darvid;  but  suddenly 
he  restrained  himself. 

The  Swiss  stood  at  the  door;  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  was 
another  servant.  So,  raising  his  hat  to  his  daughter,  he 
finished  the  conversation  in  a  language  understandable  to 
the  servants: 

"  Pardon  me;  I  have  no  time.  I  shall  be  late.  We  will 
finish  this  conversation  another  time." 

When  the  carriage,  whining  on  the  snow,  rolled  along 
the  crowded  streets  of  the  city,  in  the  light  of  the  street- 
lamps  which  fell  on  it,  appeared  Darvid's  face,  with  an 
expression  of  terror.  That  pallid,  thin  face,  with  ruddy 
whiskers,  and  a  collar  of  silvery  fur,  was  visible  for  a  mo- 
ment with  eyes  widely  open,  with  raised  brows,  with  the 
words  hanging  on  his  lips:  "  She  knows  everything! — 
ghastly!  "  and  after  a  while  it  sank  again  into  the  darkness 
which  filled  the  carriage. 


130 


CHAPTEE  VI 

Foe  the  first  time  surely  in  that  city,  separated  from 
England  by  lands  and  seas,  a  certain  number  of  people, 
very  limited,  it  is  true,  might  admire  small,  bachelor's  apart- 
ments, fitted  up  with  tapestry,  sculpture,  and  stained-glass, 
from  the  London  factory  of  Morris,  Faulkner,  Marshall 
&  Co.  The  drawing-room  was  not  large,  but  there  was 
in  it  absolutely  nothing  which  had  its  origin  elsewhere 
than  in  that  factory  founded  by  a  famous  poet  and  member 
of  the  pre-Raphaelite  Brotherhood.  The  famous  poet  and 
artist,  William  Morris,  had  become  a  manufacturer  for  the 
purpose  of  correcting  aesthetic  taste  in  the  multitude,  and 
filling  people's  dwellings  with  works  of  pure  beauty.  The 
objects  in  this  apartment  were  really  beautiful.  The  tapes- 
try on  the  walls  represented  a  series  of  pictures  taken  from 
romances  of  knighthood,  and  from  marvellous  legends: 
Tristan  and  Isolde,  on  the  deck  of  a  ship;  Flor  and  Blan- 
cheflor,  in  a  garden  of  roses;  the  monk  Alberich,  in  a  Do- 
minican habit,  descending  into  hell.  The  tapestry  on  the 
furniture  was  full  of  winged  heads  and  fantastic  flowers;  on 
all  sides  were  seen  great  art  in  weaving  and  masterly  bor- 
ders, which  recalled  the  margins  of  old  prayer-books. 
Dulled  and  dingy  colors,  producing  the  impression  of  things 
which  had  emerged  from  the  mist  of  ages,  and  only  glass 
window-screens,  framed  in  columns  and  pointed  arches,  were 
brilliant  with  the  colors  of  rubies,  sapphires,  and  emeralds. 
The  window-panes  were  stained  with  roses  and  with  the 
figures  of  saints  having  pale  profiles  and  wearing  bright 

131 


The  Argonauts 

robes.  On  one  of  the  tables  was  a  bronze  pulpit  in  the  form 
of  a  Gothic  chapel;  in  another  place  was  a  lamp-support, 
which  represented  the  Triumph  of  Death;  Death  was  a 
woman  with  the  wings  of  a  bat;  she  was  in  a  flowing  robe; 
she  had  curved  talons  on  her  feet,  and  a  scythe  in  her  hand. 
This  was  a  sculptured  copy  of  Orcagna,  from  the  Campo 
Santo  of  Pisa.  In  the  middle  of  the  dining-room,  which 
was  seen  beyond  an  open  door,  stood  a  table,  in  the  style  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  Altogether  simple  was  this  table, 
and  like  those  under  which,  instead  of  carpets,  men  (of 
that  century)  used  to  put  a  layer  of  hay.  The  side  table 
(fourteenth  century),  with  painted  carvings;  a  box  (four- 
teenth century,  a  copy  from  the  Museum  of  Cluny),  with 
fantastic  beasts  carved  on  its  cover,  and  with  small  figures 
on  the  front  side,  on  very  narrow  niches,  figures  represent- 
ing the  twelve  peers  of  France;  another  box,  which  was  in 
the  bedroom,  was  like  this  one,  but  the  carving  which  cov- 
ered it  represented  the  anointing  of  Louis  XI.  at  Eheims 
(Museum  of  Orleans).  It  stood  at  the  feet  of  Brother  Al- 
berich,  who,  in  his  white  habit,  was  entering  the  black  jaws 
of  hell;  it  took  the  place  of  a  sofa,  there  being  no  sofa  in 
the  room.  Both  these  boxes  of  wood  and  iron,  immensely 
artistic,  though  merely  copies  of  authentic  relics,  served 
as  places  in  which  to  keep  objects  of  art,  and  served  as 
seats  also.  Besides  these,  there  were  only  a  few  stools, 
with  arms  carved  in  trefoil  shape  (fourteenth  and  fifteenth 
century),  and  still  fewer  armchairs,  immensely  deep  and 
wide — so-called  cathedrae — covered  with  most  wonderful 
stuffs;  but  everything  was  there  which  was  needed,  if  the 
dwelling  was  to  preserve  a  purely  Middle  Age  character  as 
to  style.  In  the  air,  slightly  colored  by  the  brightly 
stained-glass,  hovered  something  archaic  and  exotic — 
hoary  antiquity  reigned — and   a   critical  spirit    with   the 

132 


The  Argonauts 

odor  of  mysticism  might  be  felt  floating  around  there. 
But  all  this  seemed  quite  comprehensible  and  natural  to 
anyone  who  knew  Baron  Emil,  the  owner  of  that  dwelling 
— a  trained  and  exacting  eesthete — moreover,  the  baron 
was  of  that  school  called  Medieval;  and  as  a  Mediasvalist 
he  professed  homage  for  Middle  Ages  romances  and 
legends;  for  subtle  works  of  art  and  for  inspirations 
touching  a  world  beyond  the  present  which  resulted  from 
them. 

Three  years  before  Maryan  Darvid,  in  company  with,  or 
more  strictly  under,  the  protection  of  Kranitski,  entered  for 
the  first  time  this  dwelling,  which  had  been  recently  fur- 
nished. The  baron  had  brought  home,  from  one  of  the 
Mediterranean  islands,  the  mortal  remains  of  his  mother, 
who  had  died  just  before;  he  had  received  from  her  a 
great  inheritance,  and  to  put  his  interests  in  order  he  had 
settled  in  his  native  city  for  a  period.  Kranitski,  long  a 
friend  in  the  house  of  his  father  and  mother,  had  known 
him  from  childhood,  and  exhibited  on  greeting  him  an  out- 
burst of  tenderness.  This  amused  the  baron,  but  pleased 
him  also  a  little.  "  He  is  a  trifle  odd,  good,  poor  devil — 
on  the  whole:  gentle,  perfectly  presentable,  and  active." 
Kranitski  was  very  active.  He  went  to  the  boundary  to 
take  out  of  the  custom-house  everything  which  had  come 
to  the  baron's  address  from  England;  and  then  helped  him 
in  the  arrangement  of  the  dwelling,  which  was  attended  with 
considerable  labor.  Upholsterers  and  other  assistants  lost 
their  heads  at  sight  of  those  knights,  ladies,  monks,  peers  of 
France,  and  the  Triumph  of  Death,  which  came  out  of  the 
boxes.  Kranitski  was  astonished  at  nothing,  for  he  had 
read  much,  and  knew  many  things  also,  but  he  could  not 
be  very  enthusiastic  in  this  case.  When  the  installation 
was  accomplished,  with  his  active  and  skilful  assistance, 

133 


The  Argonauts 

he  thought:  "  The  place  is  funereal,  and  there  is  little  com- 
fort here."  He  looked  askance  somewhat  at  the  boxes  with 
the  peers  of  France  and  Louis  XI.  on  them.  The  covers  of 
these  boxes,  rough  with  carving,  did  not  seem  to  him  the 
most  agreeable  places  to  sit  on.  He  said  nothing,  how- 
ever, for  he  was  ashamed  to  confess  that  he  did  not  un- 
derstand or  did  not  favor  that  which  was  the  flower  of  the 
newest  exotic  fashion.  He  visited  the  baron  and  spent 
many  hours  in  his  dwelling,  and  soon  he  took  there  a 
second  man — a  young  friend  of  his.  When  Maryan  Darvid 
found  himself  for  the  first  time  in  the  company  and  at  the 
house  of  a  Mediaevalist,  he  was  confused,  like  a  man  who 
is  standing  in  the  presence  of  something  immensely  above 
him.  Almost  ten  years  older,  the  baron  surpassed  Maryan 
immeasurably  in  all  branches  of  knowledge,  both  of  books 
and  life ;  and  his  little  dwelling  was  a  marvel  of  originality 
and  outlay.  Maryan  felt  poor  both  in  body  and  spirit. 
Though  a  yearly  allowance  of  six  thousand  received  from 
his  father  had  not  been  enough  up  to  that  time,  it 
seemed  to  him  then  a  chip,  only  fit  to  be  kicked  away. 
As  to  the  mental  side,  he  was  simply  ashamed  that  he 
could  still  find  any  pleasant  thing  in  that  world  which 
surrounded  him,  and  in  the  life  which  he  was  leading.  Com- 
monness, cheapness,  vulgarity!  The  meaning  of  these 
words  he  understood  clearly  after  he  had  been  in  the  baron's 
society.  Even  earlier  he  had  begun  to  feel  the  need  of  some- 
thing loftier;  something  beyond  those  pleasures  of  the  senses 
— of  fancy  and  of  vanity — which  he  had  experienced, 
though  these  were  considerable.  The  substance  and  nature 
of  these  pleasures  lay  on  the  surface — they  were  accessible 
to  a  considerable  number  of  people.  The  baron,  in  the  man- 
ner usual  with  him,  speaking  somewhat  through  his  nose 
and  teeth,  said: 

134 


The  Argonauts 

"  We,  the  experienced  and  disenchanted,  seek  for  new 
shivers,  just  as  alchemists  of  the  Middle  Ages  sought  for 
gold.    We  are  in  search  of  the  rare  and  of  the  novel." 

In  search  of  the  rare  and  the  novel  in  shivers,  or  uni- 
versal impressions:  sensuous,  mental,  and  aesthetic,  Maryan 
went  once  with  the  baron,  and  a  second  time  alone,  on  a 
journey  through  Europe.  He  visited  many  countries  and 
capitals.  To  investigate  the  Salvation  Army,  he  joined  its 
ranks  for  a  period  in  England.  In  Germany  he  was  con- 
nected with  the  almost  legendary,  politico-religious  sect 
which  bears  the  name  Fahrende  Leute;  and,  again,  for 
some  time,  in  an  immense  wagon  drawn  by  gigantic  Mech- 
lenburgers,  he  wandered  through  the  mountainous  Hartz 
forest  and  along  the  banks  of  the  picturesque  Saal;  he  spent 
most  time  in  Paris,  where,  with  the  theosophists  he  sum- 
moned up  spirits,  and  with  the  decadents,  otherwise  known 
as  incoherents,  and  still  otherwise  as  the  accursed  poets;  in 
the  club  of  hashish-eaters  he  had  dreams  and  visions  brought 
on  by  using  narcotics.  Besides,  he  saw  many  other  rare  and 
peculiar  things;  but  he  was  ever  hampered  by  slender  finan- 
cial means  and  the  need  of  incurring  great  debts;  and 
was  irritated  by  the  impossibility  of  finding  anything 
which  could  satisfy  him  permanently,  or,  at  least,  for  a 
long  period.  He  felt  satisfactions,  but  brief  ones.  Every- 
thing of  which  he  had  dreamed  seemed  less  after  he  had 
attained  it — more  common,  weaker  than  in  his  imagining. 
The  brightness  was  dimmed;  on  the  glitter  there  were 
defects;  the  warm  inspirations  which  came  from  afar, 
grew  stiff  when  they  were  touched,  stiffened,  as  oil  does 
when  floating  on  water.  In  the  taste  of  things,  sweetness 
and  tartness  became  insipid  and  nauseous,  the  moment 
they  reached  his  palate. 

This  was  by  no  means  a  surfeit  devoid  of  appetites;  but, 

135 


The  Argonauts 

on  the  contrary,  such  an  immense  flood  of  appetites  that 
the  insurgent  wave  of  them  struck  the  region  of  the  im- 
possible with  fury,  because  it  could  not  rush  over  that 
barrier.  This  was  also  an  inflammation  of  the  fancy, 
which  had  risen  from  an  active  mind,  and  which  early  and 
numerous  experiences  had  turned  into  a  festering  wound. 
Finally,  it  was  also  the  placing  of  self  on  some  imagined 
summit,  standing  apart  and  aloft,  beyond  and  above  all. 
I — and  the  rabble.  What  is  not  I,  and  a  handful  like  me 
— is  the  rabble.  What  is  to  be  mine  cannot  be  of  the 
rabble;  what  is  of  the  rabble  must  be  not  of  mine.  This 
pride  was  not  of  birth  or  money;  it  might  be  called 
nervous  mental  arrogance.  Mental  summits  other  than 
those  of  the  rabble,  and  other  requirements  of  the  nerves; 
the  highest  bloom  of  human  civilization — sickly,  but 
the  highest;  the  crash,  but  also  the  coronation  of  man- 
kind. In  all  this  there  was  a  principle — one,  but  inde- 
structible: the  respect  of  individuality;  the  preservation  of 
it  from  all  limitations  and  changes  which  might  come  from 
outside;  a  respect  reaching  the  height  of  worship.  Every- 
thing might  be,  according  to  time  and  place,  a  painted  pot; 
but  individuahty  (that  is,  the  way  in  which  a  man's  wishes, 
tastes,  way  of  thinking  were  fashioned)  was  sacred — the  only 
sacred  thing.  It  was  not  permitted  to  give  this  into  cap- 
tivity to  anyone  or  anything,  or  to  submit  it  to  criticisms, 
or  corrections.  I  am  what  I  am;  and  I  will  remain  my- 
self. I  will  and  I  am  obliged  to  know  how  to  will — some- 
thing like  the  superhuman  preached  by  Friedrich  Nietsche. 
The  baron's  dwelling  was  not  only  original  and  fabulously 
expensive,  but  it  had  in  itself  besides,  that  which  the  Ger- 
mans define  by  the  word  stimmung.  A  number  of  young 
polyglots  examined  for  a  long  time  various  languages  of 
Europe  to  find  a  word  which  would  answer  best  to  the  Ger- 


The  Argonauts 

man  stimmung,  till  Maryan  first,  possessing  the  greatest 
linguistic  capacity,  came  on  the  Polish  expression  nastroj 
(tone  of  mind).  Yes,  they  agreed,  universally,  that  the 
baron's  dwelling  produced  a  tone  of  mind;  an  impression  not 
of  what  was  in  it,  but  of  something  of  which  it  was  the 
mysterious  expression  or  symbol.  It  produced  an  impression 
which  had  its  cause  beyond  this  world.  To  believe  in  some- 
thing beyond  this  world  does  not  mean  to  profess  a  reUgion 
— as  that  of  Buddha,  Zoroaster,  or  Chrystos.  No,  of 
course  not;  that  would  be  well  for  early  ages  and  infan- 
tile people;  old  ones,  too,  run  wild  after  fables,  for  the 
principle  of  the  beautiful  is  in  these  fables;  but  they  do 
not  let  fables  lead  them  ofE  by  the  nose.  An  impression 
from  beyond  the  world  is  something  entirely  different; 
it  is  a  shiver  of  delights  which  are  unknown  here,  and 
only  anticipated,  coming  from  a  world  inaccessible  to  the 
senses.  That  such  a  world  exists  is  shown  by  the  enor- 
mous poverty  of  this  one,  and  the  mad  monotony  of 
those  sources  of  pleasure  which  are  contained  in  the  world 
accessible  to  human  senses.  A  poet  is  so  far  a  poet,  an 
aesthete  so  far  an  aesthete,  as  he  is  able,  by  intuition  and 
unheard-of  delicacy  of  nerves,  to  burst  into  the  world 
above  the  senses  and  to  experience  the  taste,  or  rather 
the  odor,  which  goes  before  it.  For  it  is  an  absolute  con- 
dition that  the  feeling  should  be  hazy,  something  in  the 
nature  of  an  odor;  or,  better  still,  the  echo  of  an  odor.  No 
key  of  a  musical  instrument  is  to  be  touched;  no  definite 
features  are  to  be  drawn;  the  tone  of  mind  alone  is  to  be 
produced.  The  baron's  dwelling  gave  the  tone  of  mind 
for  another  world.  He  and  his  associates  believed  in  another 
world,  beyond  the  earth  and  the  grave;  on  the  basis  of  the 
poverty  and  commonness  of  the  world  before  the  grave — 
that  is,  in  despair  of  the  case.    For  them  it  was  not  subject 

137 


The  Argonauts 

to  doubt—that  world,  the  slight  odors  of  which  flew  to  them 
in  moments  when  they  were  in  the  tone  of  mind,  was  filled 
with  perfect  beauty,  nothing  but  beauty ;  a  beauty  which, 
in  this  world,  even  by  itself  alone,  raises  men  above  the 
level  of  the  rabble.  If  this  beauty  did  not  exist,  we  should 
be  justified  in  accepting  Hartmann's  theory  of  the  collec- 
tive suicide  of  mankind,  and  in  throwing  a  "  bloody  spittle 
of  contempt "  at  life.  A  "  bloody  spittle,"  as  is  known 
from  Arthur  Eimbaud's  sonnets  on  consonants,  stands  be- 
fore the  eyes  of  everyone  who  pronounces  the  vowel  i, 
just  as  the  vowel  a  brings  up  the  picture  of  "black, 
shaggy  flies,  which  buzz  around  terribly  fetid  objects." 

"  Ah,  no,  my  friend!  No,  no!  That  passes  my  power! 
In  heaven's  name  I  beg  you  not  to  say  another  word!  " 

With  this  exclamation  Arthur  Kranitski,  like  a  pike  out 
of  water,  struggled  in  the  immensely  deep  cathedra;  and, 
with  his  arms  in  the  air  kept  calling  out: 

"  Terribly  fetid  objects !  Bloody  spittle !  that  is  not 
poetry — it  is  not  even  decent!  And  those  shaggy  flies  whirl- 
ing around — that — No!  I  feel  a  nausea,  which  mounts  to 
my  throat.  No,  my  friends,  I  will  never  agree  that  that  is 
poetry! " 

His  voice  broke,  so  wounded  was  he  in  his  gesthetic  con- 
ceptions. The  young  men  laughed.  That  dear,  honest 
Pan  Kranitski  is  an  innocent.  In  spite  of  his  forty  and 
some  years  clearly  sounded,  and  his  romantic  experiences, 
his  love  for  good  eating  and  other  nice  things,  the  highest 
point  of  extravagance  of  all  sorts  for  him  were  Boccaccio, 
Paul  de  Kock,  Alfred  Musset — simpletons,  or  babies. 

Kranitski,  after  his  first  impression,  had  a  feeling  of 
shame. 

"  Pardon,  my  dears!  An  innocent!  Not  so  much  of  an 
innocent  as  may  seem  to  you.    I  am  far  from  being  an  in- 

138 


The  Argonauts 

nocent;  I  understand  everything  and  am  able  to  experience 
everything.  But^  do  yon  see,  there  is  a  difference  in  tastes. 
Clearness,  simplicity,  harmony,  these  are  what  I  like,  but 
yours — yours " 

Again  he  was  carried  away  by  aesthetic  indignation,  so, 
throwing  himself  back  in  the  chair,  with  outspread  arms, 
he  finished: 

"  Your  making  poetry  of  spittle  and  foul  odor  is — do  you 
know  what?  it  is  sprinkling  a  cloaca  with  holy  water! 
That  is  what  it  is." 

In  the  little  drawing-room  betweeen  the  screens  of  stained 
glass  and  that  part  of  the  wall  on  which  a  knight  of  the 
Round  Table  was  bowing  to  Isolde  stood  a  small  organ,  and 
before  the  organ,  at  the  midday  hour,  sat  Baron  Emil 
playing  one  of  the  grandest  fugues  of  Sebastian  Bach. 
Small  and  fragile,  in  his  morning  dress  of  yellowish  flannel, 
in  stockings  with  colored  stripes,  and  shoes  of  yellow  leather 
with  very  sharp  tips,  he  was  resting  his  shoulder  against 
the  arm  of  the  chair  carved  in  a  trefoil  (fourteenth  century); 
he  stretched  his  arms  stiffly  and  rested  his  long  bony  fingers 
on  various  keys  of  the  piano.  His  delicate,  sallow  features 
had  an  expression  of  great  solemnity;  his  small,  blue  eyes 
looked  dreamily  into  space,  and  from  the  glass  shade,  bright- 
ened by  the  sunlight  falling  in  through  the  window,  purple 
and  blue  rays  fell  on  his  faded  forehead  and  ruddy,  closely 
cut  hair. 

Besides  the  baron,  who  was  playing,  was  present  Kranitski, 
who  had  come  an  hour  before  and  heard  from  the  servant 
that  the  baron  was  sleeping  yet.  But  that  was  not  true,  for 
a  few  minutes  after  Kranitski  heard  farther  back  in  the 
building  an  outburst  of  female  laughter,  to  which  the 
nasal  voice  of  the  baron,  who  spoke  rather  long  about 
something,  gave  answer.    The  guest  smiled  and  whispered 

139 


The  Argonauts 

to  the  "  Triumph  of  Death/'  at  which  he  was  looking, 
"  Lili  Kerth." 

Then  he  sank  into  the  cathedra  so  that  in  spite  of  his 
lofty  stature  he  almost  disappeared  in  it.  Soon  the  baron 
appeared  at  the  door,  and,  accustomed  to  seeing  Kranitski 
at  various  times,  he  nodded  to  him  with  a  brief  "  Bon 
jour!  "  and  turned  to  the  organ.  Sitting  at  the  organ  he 
threw  these  words  over  his  arm: 

"  We  expect  Maryan  at  lunch." 

"  But  she  ?  "  inquired  Kranitski  from  the  depth  of  the 
long  and  high  arms  of  the  cathedra. 

"  She  will  finish  her  toilet  and  go." 

Then  he  played  the  Bach  fugue.  He  played,  and  Kran- 
itski, sank  in  the  chair,  listened  and  grew  sadder  and  sad- 
der. During  recent  days  he  had  grown  evidently  old;  he 
had  become  thin;  wrinkles  had  appeared  on  his  forehead. 
His  person  had  lost  elasticity  and  self-confidence.  He 
looked  like  a  man  who  had  received  a  heavy  blow,  but  he 
was,  as  always,  dressed  carefully,  the  odor  of  perfvimes  was 
around  him,  and  a  colored  handkerchief  appeared  in  his 
coat  pocket.  In  presence  of  the  baron's  music  he  grew  sad 
and  then  sadder.  That  music  made  the  place  more  and 
more  church-like.  The  figures  of  saints  on  the  shade  under 
the  golden  haloes  seemed  to  melt  in  profound  adoration. 
The  "  Triumph  of  Death  "  spread  its  wings  on  the  back- 
ground of  subdued  colors  in  the  chamber;  in  that  atmos- 
phere the  organ  and  silence  sang  a  majestic  duet.  Kranitski 
began  to  feel  the  tone  of  mind  mightily.  His  shoulders 
bent  forward  mechanically ;  he  took  out  of  his  pocket  f he 
gold  cigarette  case,  and  thought,  while  turning  it  in  his 
fingers : 

"Everything  passes!  Everything  is  behind  me — love 
and  the  rest!    The  grave  swallows  all  things.    The  days 

140 


The  Argonauts 

fly,  like  dust,  fly  into  the  past — into  eternity !    Eternity ! 
the  enigma/' 

All  at  once  into  the  duet,  sung  by  the  organ  and  silence, 
broke  the  loud  rattle  of  a  door,  then  the  rustle  of  silk  skirts, 
till  there  had  shot  through  the  dining-room,  and  halted  in 
the  door  of  the  drawing-room,  a  creature  who  was  pretty,  not 
large,  excessively  noisy,  and  active  of  body.  She  had  a 
short  skirt,  small  feet,  a  fur-lined  cape  of  the  latest  style, 
and  a  gigantic  hat  which  shaded  a  small,  dark,  thin,  wilted 
face,  with  eyes  burning  like  candles  and  hair  gleaming  like 
Venetian  gold.  The  silk,  the  sable,  the  incredibly  long 
ostrich  feathers,  the  diamonds  in  her  ears,  and  the  loud 
burst  of  laughter  cut  through  the  music  of  Bach  like  a 
silver  saw. 

"Eh  Men,  ne  veus-tu  pas  me  dire  ton  jour,  toi,  grand 
beta?  Tiens,  voildf"  (Well,  wilt  thou  not  say  good-day 
to  me,  thou  great  beast?  Here  it  is!)  With  the  expression 
voild!  was  heard  a  loud  kiss,  impressed  on  the  cheek  of  the 
baron,  then  Lili  Kerth,  the  gleaming  of  silk,  diamonds, 
eyes,  and  hair  turned  toward  the  door  of  the  antechamber 
and  saw  Kranitski. 

"  Oh,  te  voild  aussi,  vieux  heau ! "  (Oh,  here  thou  art 
too,  old  beau!) 

She  sprang  toward  the  cathedra,  and,  wringing  her  hands, 
exclaimed: 

*'  What  a  funereal  face! "  And  she  spoke  on,  or  rather 
babbled  on  in  French:  "Hast  disappointments?  That  is 
bad!  But  one  must  not  think  of  them.  Do  as  I  do.  I  have 
disappointments,  but  I  mock  at  them.  This  is  how  I  treat 
disappointments." 

She  made  a  step  so  elastic  that  her  little  foot  flew  into 
the  air,  and  she  touched  Kranitski's  chin  with  the  point  of 
her  shoe.  That  was  a  model  indication  of  the  method  with 
which  one  should  treat  disappointments. 

141 


The  Argonauts 

"Now  adieu  to  the  company!"  cried  she,  and  rattling 
her  bracelets  she  vanished. 

In  the  chamber  there  was  silence  again,  in  the  midst  of 
which  Tristan  gave  a  knightly  bow  to  Isolde,  and  the  monk 
Alberich  let  himself  down  into  the  jaws  of  hell;  "  Triumph 
of  Death  "  spread  her  bat-wings,  and  the  saints  with  their 
golden  haloes  crossed  their  pale  hands  on  their  bright  robes. 

The  baron  was  sitting  before  the  organ  with  his  head 
dropped  to  his  breast.  Kranitski,  buried  in  the  cathedra, 
panted  aloud  for  some  seconds  till  he  said,  with  a  complain- 
ing voice: 

"  It  is  abominable !  I  do  not  wish  a  cocotte  to  throw, 
her  foot  on  my  neck  when  I  am  thinking  of  eternity.  What 
confounded  tastes  you  have!  Immediately  after  leaving  Lili 
Kerth  to  play  that  divine  Bach.  Nonsense!  mixture!  I 
am  not  a  monk,  far  from  it — but  such  shaking  up  in  one  bot- 
tle of  the  profane  and  the  sacred,  no,  that  is  vileness  swad- 
dled in  art.  Yes,  yes,  I  beg  forgiveness  once  more,  but  in 
the  Holy  Scriptures  something  is  said  about  a  gold  ring  in 
a  pig's  nose.    Voild!" 

The  baron  smiled  under  his  ruddy  mustache  and  said^ 
after  a  while: 

"  That  is  subtle  and  not  to  be  understood  by  everyone. 
Bach  after  Lili  Kerth — that  is  the  bite,  that  is  the  irony  of 
things.    Do  you  know  Baudelaire's  quatrain?" 

He  stood  up,  and,  without  declamation,  even  carelessly, 
through  his  nose  and  teeth,  gave  the  quatrain: 

"  Quand  cbez  le  debauche  I'aube  blancbe  et  vermeil, 
Entre  en  societe  de  I'ldeal  rongeur, 
Par  I'operation  d'un  mystere  vengeur, 
Dans  la  brute  assoupie  un  Ange  se  reveille !  " 

With  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  flannel  sack  he 
paced  through  the  room. 

143 


The  Argonauts 

Maryan  had  translated  that  quatrain  quite  beautifully. 
Without  interrupting  his  pacing  he  repeated  the  translation. 

The  bell  rang  in  the  antechamber;  Maryan  entered  the 
drawing-room.  He  was  paler  than  usual  and  had  dark 
lines  under  his  eyes,  which  were  very  bright.  Kranitski 
rushed  from  the  cathedra,  and,  seizing  the  young  man  by 
both  hands,  looked  into  his  face  with  tenderness: 

"At  last,  at  last!  I  have  not  seen  you  for  almost  a  fort- 
night. I  have  not  left  the  house.  I  had  a  little  hope  that 
you  would  visit  me." 

"All  right,  all  right!"  answered  Maryan,  and  touching 
the  hand  of  the  baron,  he  sat  down  on  the  box  on  which  was 
the  anointing  of  Louis  XI.,  he  rested  his  shoulders  on  the 
bare  foot  of  Alberich  and  became  motionless. 

Maryan  continued  to  be  so  motionless  that  not  only  the 
limbs  of  his  body,  but  the  features  of  his  face  seemed  be- 
numbed. Had  it  not  been  for  his  eyes,  which  were  gleaming 
brightly,  he  might  have  been  mistaken  at  a  distance  for  a 
stuffed  and  elegantly  dressed  manikin.  Baron  Emil  and 
Kranitski  knew  what  this  meant.  According  to  Maryan 
that  was  a  chill  into  which  he  fell  always  after  disappoint- 
ment or  disenchantment.  He  was  possessed  at  such  times 
by  a  lack  of  will,  which  made  all  movements,  even  those 
which  were  physical,  unendurable  and  difficult.  At  the 
same  time  he  had  such  a  contempt  for  all  things  on  earth 
that  it  did  not  seem  worth  the  while  to  him  to  move  hand 
or  lips  for  any  cause.  Some  French  writer  has  called  such 
a  condition  of  desiccation  of  the  heart's  interior.  Maryan 
found  that  definition  quite  appropriate.  When  he  sat  mo- 
tionless, deaf  and  dumb,  or  walked  like  an  automaton  moved 
by  springs,  he  felt  exactly  as  if  the  interior  of  his  heart  were 
drying  up. 

The  baron,  too,  passed  tli rough  similar  states  with  some 

143 


The  Argonauts 

differences,  however,  for  feeling  contempt  instead  of  lack 
of  will,  he  felt  a  "  red  anger,"  or  what  the  French  call  coVere 
rouge.  He  was  carried  away  then  by  the  wish  to  shut  his  fist, 
beat  and  break,  in  fact  he  did  beat  the  servants  sometimes, 
and  break  costly  articles.  He  considered  the  desiccation  of 
his  friend's  heart  in  its  interior  portions  with  respect,  even 
with  sympathy.  He,  with  hands  thrust  into  his  yellowish 
flannel  pockets,  walked  up  and  down  in  the  chamber  and 
hissed  through  his  teeth: 

"  "We  are  all  stunted.  We  are  breaking  down!  bah!  it  is 
time.  The  world  is  old.  Children  of  an  aged  father  born 
with  internal  cancer." 

Kranitski,  hearing  this,  thought:  "Why  should  a  man 
break  down  and  get  a  cancer  when  he  is  young  and  rich  ?  " 
But  he  did  not  oppose.  He  pitied  Maryan.  He  looked  at 
him  with  an  expression  of  eyes  similar  to  that  with  which 
loving  nurses  look  on  sick  or  capricious  children. 

At  lunch  Maryan's  handsome  face  was  sallow  and  mo- 
tionless as  a  wax  mask;  as  a  wax  mask  it  stood  out  on  the 
background  of  the  high  arms  of  the  chair.  He  was  as  silent 
as  a  stone.  He  had  no  appetite.  He  ate  only  a  little  caviar, 
and  then  fell  to  swallowing  an  endless  number  of  small  cups 
of  black  coffee,  which  the  baron  himself  prepared,  accord- 
ing to  some  special  recipe,  and  poured  out.  The  baron  him- 
self drank  goblet  after  goblet  of  wine,  and  as  to  the  rest 
he  yawned  a  great  deal  more  than  he  ate.  But  Kranit- 
ski's  appetite  was  a  success.  After  some  weeks  of  Widow 
Clemens'  meagre  kitchen  he  ate  eggs,  cutlets,  cheese,  till 
his  eyes  were  gleaming.  According  to  his  old  acquaintances 
gastronomy  had  always  been  his  weak  point — and  women. 
But  he  drank  little  and  did  not  play  cards.  In  spite  of 
hearty  eating  he  did  not  forget  the  duties  of  a  welcome 
guest.     He  kept  up  conversation  with  the  master  of  the 

144 


The  Argonauts 

house,  who  told  him  carelessly  of  a  rare  and  beautiful  picture 
found  at  some  collector's. 

"  A  real,  a  genuine  Overbeck.  We  were  to  examine  it 
with  Maryan,  but  since  Maryan  did  not  come — "  He 
turned  to  young  Darvid:   "  Why  did  you  not  come?  " 

There  was  no  answer.  The  waxen  mask,  supported  on 
the  arm  of  the  chair,  remained  motionless  and  gazed  with 
gloomy  eyes  into  space. 

"Overbeck!"  began  Kranitski,  and  added,  "a  pre- 
Eaphaelite." 

Over  Maryan's  fixed  features  ran  a  quiver  caused  by 
better  thoughts.  Without  the  least  movement  of  features 
or  posture  he  grumbled: 

"  Nazarene." 

Kranitski  corrected  himself  hurriedly  and  with  a  shamed 
face. 

"Yes,  pardon!    A  Nazarene." 

"  But,  naturally,  a  Nazarene  pure  blood,"  said  the  baron, 
growing  animated,  "  the  uninitiated  confound  Nazarenea 
with  pre-Eaphaelites  quite  erroneously.  They  form  a 
separate  school.  This  Overbeck  is  a  find.  I  will  say  more, 
it  is  a  discovery.  If  it  were  dragged  out  of  that  den  and 
taken  abroad  one  might  do  a  splendid  business  with  it." 

Warmed  by  a  considerable  quantity  of  wine,  his  com- 
plexion made  somewhat  rosy,  the  baron  fell  to  giving 
Kranitski  an  idea  which  had  circled  long  in  his  brain: 
"  There  is  in  Poland  a  number  of  ancient  families  who  are 
failing  financially,  and  who  possess  many  remnants  of 
former  wealth.  There  are  frequently  things  of  high  value 
not  only  objects  of  pure  art,  but  the  most  various  products 
of  former  wealth  and  taste;  as,  for  instance,  hangings,  tapes- 
try belts,  china,  tapestry,  furniture,  and  jewelry.  The  own- 
ers, pushed  to  the  wall  by  evil  circumstances,  would  sell  will- 

145 


The  Argonauts 

ingly,  and  for  a  trifle,  articles  which  have  great  value  now 
in  both  hemispheres.  One  must  search  for  them,  it  is  true, 
almost  as  the  humanists  once  sought  for  Greek  and  Latin 
manuscripts,  but  whoever  could  find,  purchase,  and  sell  these 
would  open  a  real  mine  of  great  profits.  In  Europe,  Eng- 
land is  the  country  most  favorable  for  commercial  opera- 
tions of  this  kind,  but  the  richest  field  is  America.  To  buy 
here  for  a  trifle  and  sell  in  the  United  States  for  gold 
weighed  out  to  you.  But,  before  beginning  business,  one 
should  go  to  America,  examine  the  field,  form  connections, 
take  initial  steps.  Above  all  approach  the  undertaking  with 
considerable  capital  and  great  knowledge." 

While  explaining  his  idea  and  the  plan  of  operations 
which  had  come  to  his  head  long  before,  and  drawing  from 
the  glass  excellent  liquid,  the  baron  became  animated,  grew 
young,  his  little  eyes  under  their  ruddy  brows  gleamed 
sharply.  And  even  Maryan  said  all  at  once  in  grumbling 
tones: 

"  It  is  an  idea!  " 

"  Is  it  not  ?  "  laughed  the  baron. 

Kranitski  listened  in  silence,  with  curiosity.  Then,  halt- 
ing a  little,  he  said,  with  some  indecision: 

"  If  your  project  becomes  a  fact  then  you  will  take  me 
as  your  agent.  I  know  a  little  of  those  things;  I  know 
where  to  look  for  them,  and  I  offer  you  my  earnest  services 
— very  earnest." 

In  spite  of  the  jesting  tone  one  could  note  in  his  implor- 
ing look,  and  in  his  smile  full  of  timid,  uncertain  quivers, 
that  he  felt  keenly  the  need  of  fixing  himself  to  someone 
or  something  and  escaping  from  the  great  void  yawning 
under  him. 

All  three  lighted  cigars  and  went  to  the  drawing-room 
where  Maryan  sat  again  on  the  Louis  XL  box,  Kranitski 

146 


The  Argonauts 

sank  into  a  cathedra,  and  the  baron  opened  at  the  window 
one  sheet  of  an  English  paper,  which  shielded  him  before  the 
light  from  his  knees  to  the  crown  of  his  head.  He  was  silent 
rather  long,  then  from  behind  the  paper  curtain  was  heard 
his  nasal  voice: 

"  Crushing! " 

"What?"  inquired  Kranitski. 

"  The  fair  at  Chicago." 

And  he  read  aloud  an  account  of  the  preparations  for  the 
colossal  exhibition  which  was  to  be  in  that  American  city. 
He  accompanied  the  reading  with  judgments  which  con- 
tained comparisons:  The  old  part  of  the  world — the  old 
civilizations,  the  old  common  methods  and  proceedings. 
Besides  narrow  spaces,  familiar  horizons — too  familiar.  But 
America  was  something  not  worn  to  rags  yet.  By  a  won- 
derful chance  the  baron  had  not  been  there,  but  when  he 
thought  of  America  Eimbaud's  verses  occurred  to  him.  He 
rose,  and,  walking  through  the  chamber,  gave  the  fol- 
lowing: 

"  Divine  vibration  of  green  seas, 
The  peace  of  fields  spotted  with  animals; 
Silences  traversed  by  worlds,  by  angels." 

"And  by  millions! "  called  Maryan  from  the  foot  of  the 
white  monk  Alberich. 

He  took  his  shoulders  from  the  monk's  robe,  and  added: 

"  Nowhere  are  there  such  colossal  fortunes,  and  such 
powerful  means  of  getting  them,  as  on  those  fields  spotted 
with  animals." 

And  all  at  once,  as  it  were,  the  desiccating  interior  of  his 
heart  became  animated,  he  rose  and  began  to  walk  quickly 
through  the  chamber,  passed  the  slowly  walking  baron,  and 
said : 

"  It  is  an  idea!    One  must  dwell  on  it.    I  must  go  there, 

147 


The  Argonauts 

or  somewhere  else — do  something  with  myself.  I  am  driven 
from  this  place  by  one  of  the  greatest  disappointments  which 
I  have  ever  known.  I  reached  the  bottom  of  disenchant- 
ments  yesterday.  That  is  why  I  did  not  come  to  look  at 
the  Overbeck.  I  w^as  buried.  My  last  painted  pot  burst.  I 
was  disappointed  in  a  man  for  whom  I  had  felt  something 
like  honor." 

He  spoke  English.  The  baron  asked  him  in  English 
also: 

"What  has  happened?" 

And  Kranitski,  with  a  little  worse  accent  in  the  same 
language,  repeated  tlie  question  a  number  of  times.. 

Maryan,  continuing  to  walk  through  the  chamber,  nar- 
rated the  conversation  with  his  father  and  the  ultimatum 
given  him.  The  baron  laughed  noiselessly,  and  inquired; 
Kranitski  gave  out  cries  of  indignation.  Maryan,  with  a 
fiery  face  and  feverish  movement,  added: 

"  I  had  thought  that  man  worthy  of  my  admiration. 
Logical,  consequent,  unconquerable,  formed  of  one  piece. 
A  magnificent  monolith.  No  sentiments,  no  prejudices. 
Permitting  no  one  to  disturb  the  development  of  his  individ- 
uality. I  understood  that  his  method  of  rearing  me,  and 
then  pushing  me  to  the  highest  spheres  of  life,  pointed  to 
this,  that  I  was  to  live  for  his  honor.  I  was  to  be  one  of  the 
columns  of  that  temple  which  he  had  raised  to  his  own 
glory.  But  just  that  absoluteness  with  which  he  used  every- 
thing for  his  own  purposes  roused  in  me  homage.  The 
power  of  producing  was  in  him  equal  to  his  power  of  ego- 
tism. So  must  it  be  with  every  individuality  fashioned  by 
nature  not  on  a  model,  but  originally.  I  did  not  know  him 
much,  and  desired  a  nearer  acquaintance.  I  was  certain  that 
we  should  understand  each  other  perfectly;  that  I  should 
behold  from  nearby  a  magnificent  monolith.    Meanwhile  it 

148 


The  Argonauts 

■was  stuck  over  with  labels  of  various  kinds  of  trash,  and 
covered  with  half  a  hundred  stains  of  the  past " 

"  He  remembered  the  school  of  training  and  labor  in 
time,"  laughed  Kranitski. 

"Peste!"  hissed  the  baron.  "What  a  rheumatism  of 
thought! " 

"  Moral  principles!  "  added  Kranitski,  "he  himself  prac- 
tises them  beautifully.  Let  him  give  even  half  of  his  mill- 
ions to  that  poverty  which  is  ashamed  to  beg.  Oh,  he  will 
not!  He  will  not  do  that!  By  the  help  of  moral  prin- 
ciples it  is  easy  to  put  sacred  burdens  on  other  men's 
shoulders." 

"  That  is  it,"  added  Maryan,  "  on  other  men's  shoulders 
you  have  hit  the  point,  my  old  man.  Yes!  So  many 
years  he  cared  for  nothing;  he  considered  nothing;  now 
on  a  sudden  he  has  thrown  down  the  edifice  which  he 
himself  built.  I  know  not  as  to  others;  but,  as  for  me, 
I  shall  stick  to  my  rights.  I  cannot  permit  myself  to  fall 
a  victim  to  this  sad  accident,  that  my  father  is  a  mental 
rheumatic." 

He  stopped,  meditated  a  moment,  then  added: 

"  That  is  even  more  than  rheumatism  of  thought;  it  is 
the  exudation  of  a  decaying  past,  filling  the  brain  with 
the  corruption — of  a  corpse." 

"  Corruption  of  a  corpse!  very  apt  this  expression!  "  ex- 
claimed the  baron. 

Kranitski  made  a  wry  face  in  the  cathedra,  and  muttered: 

"  No,  no.  What  horror!  I  will  never  agree  to  that 
phrase." 

But  no  one  heard  this  quiet  protest.  Now  the  baron  in 
his  turn,  walking  more  and  more  quickly  through  tlie  room, 
spoke  on. 

Maryan  remained  sitting  on  tlie  Louis  XL  box  while  the 

149 


The  Argonauts 

baron  walked  and  complained  of  the  narrowness  of  relations 
and  the  low  level  of  civilization  in  the  city: 

"  This  is  the  real  fatherland  of  darned  socks.  Everything 
here  has  the  mustiness  of  locked  up  store-houses.  There  is 
a  lack  of  room  and  ventilation.  In  England  William  Mor- 
ris, a  great  poet,  establishes  a  factory  for  objects  pertaining 
to  art,  and  makes  millions,  I  beg  you  to  show  anything 
similar  in  this  place.  Darvid  has  made  a  colossal  fortune 
only  because  he  was  not  blind,  and  did  not  hold  on  to  his 
father's  fence.  Nationality  and  fa-ther-land,  each  is  a 
darned  sock — one  of  those  labels  which  men  with  parti- 
colored clothes  paste  on  a  gate  before  which  diggers  are 
standing.  One  must  escape  from  this  position.  One  must 
know  how  to  will." 

The  baron  said,  that  as  soon  as  he  could  bring  certain 
plans  of  his  to  completion  and  regulate  certain  property 
interests,  and  even  before  regulating  them,  he  would  occupy, 
himself  with  completing  his  new  plan.  He  turned  to 
Maryan: 

"  Will  you  be  my  partner?  It  would  be  difficult  for  me 
to  get  on  without  you.  You  have  an  excellent  feeling  for 
art — you  are  subtle " 

"  Why  not,"  answered  Maryan.  "  But  one  should  go 
first  of  all  and  examine  the  field;  one  should  go  to  America 
before  the  exhibition." 

"Naturally,  before  the  exhibition,  so  as  to  begin  action 
before  it  is  over.    In  the  question  of  capital " 

"  I  will  sell  my  personal  property,  which  has  some  value, 
and  incur  another  debt,"  said  Maryan,  carelessly. 

The  baron  halted;  he  thought  awhile;  his  faded  face 
took  on  that  expression  of  roguery  which  the  French  call 
poUsonnerie ;   joyousness  seized  him, 

"  We  will  shoot  off!  "  cried  he;  and  he  made  a  movement 

150 


The  Argonauts 

with  his  foot  like  that  which  a  street-sweeper  makes  to  catch 
a  bark  shoe  thrown  up  in  the  air. 

Maryan  rose,  shook  himself  out  of  his  lethargy,  and  said, 
almost  with  delight: 

"It  is  an  idea.     To  America!" 

Then  from  the  abyss  of  the  immensely  deep  and  broad 
cathedra  Kranitski's  voice  was  heard,  orphan-like,  timid: 

"  But  will  you  take  me  with  you,  my  dears?  When  you 
shoot  off  you  will  take  me  with  you,  will  you  not?  " 

There  was  no  answer.  The  baron  was  sitting  already  be- 
fore the  organ  and  had  begun  to  play  some  grand  church 
composition;  in  the  dignified  sound  of  that  music  Tristan 
made  a  knightly  bow  to  Isolde,  and  the  "  Triumph  of 
Death,"  with  its  dark  outline,  was  reflected  on  the  back- 
ground of  Alberich's  white  habit,  while  the  saints  painted 
with  golden  haloes  on  the  windows  clasped  their  pale  hands 
above  their  bright  robes. 


151 


CHAPTEE  VII 

Baron  Emil  said  at  times  to  Irene: 

"  You  have  the  aristocracy  of  intellect.  Your  mind  is 
original.  There  is  in  you  much  delicate  irony.  You  are 
not  deceived  with  painted  pots." 

These  words  caused  her  pleasure  of  the  same  sort  as  that 
which  the  praise  of  a  mountaineer  causes  an  inexperienced 
traveller  when  he  tells  him  that  he  knows  how  to  climb 
neck-breaking  summits.  Much  irony  had  flowed  into  her 
mind  from  certain  mysterious  sides  of  her  life.  But  she  had 
become  conscious  of  this  now  for  the  first  time,  under  the 
guidance  and  influence  of  the  baron.  He  awed  her  by  the 
originality  of  his  language  and  ideas,  by  the  absolute  sin- 
cerity of  his  disbelief,  and  his  egotism.  During  childhood 
she  had  seen  a  mask  which  astounded  her,  and  struck  her  in 
the  very  heart.  Thenceforth  everything  seemed  better  to 
her  and  more  agreeable  than  masks.  Moreover,  the  baron 
was  to  her  thinking  a  finished  aBsthete,  an  excellent  Judge 
in  the  whole  realm  of  art,  and  in  this  regard  she  did  not 
deceive  herself  greatly.  The  opinions  on  art  and  philosophy, 
which  he  proclaimed,  interested  her  through  their  novelty, 
and  the  expressions  which  he  used  purposely,  though  some- 
times brutal  and  verging  on  the  gutter,  roused  her  curios- 
ity by  their  singularity  and  insolence.  She  imitated  him 
in  speech;  in  his  presence  she  guarded  her  lips  lest  they 
might  let  something  escape  through  which  she  would  earn 
the  title  of  "  shepherdess." 

"  You  are  very  far  from  the  Arcadian  condition,  in 
which  I  meet  people  here  at  every  step.    You  are  intri- 

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The  Argonauts 

cate;  you  are  like  an  orchid,  one  stem  of  which  has  a 
flower  in  the  form  of  a  butterfly,  while  the  next  seems 
like  a  death's  head." 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  brief  laugh: 

"  A  butterfly  is  flat." 

Her  laugh  had  a  sharp  sound,  for  the  cold  gleam  of  the 
baron's  eyes  fell  on  her  boldly  and  persistently. 

"  No,"  contradicted  he,  "  no;  the  combination  of  a 
death's  head  with  a  butterfly  makes  a  dissonance.  That 
bites  and  sticks  a  new  pin  in  the  soul." 

"But  the  Greek  harmony?"  she  inquired. 

With  a  flattering  smile,  which  conquered  her,  the  baron 
answered: 

"  Never  mention  harmony.  That  is  the  milk  with  which 
babes  were  nourished.  We  subsist  on  something  else.  You- 
like  game,  do  you  not?  but  only  when  it  begins  to  decay. 
There  is  no  good  game,  except  that  which  is  rank.  Very 
well,  we  subsist  on  a  world  in  decay.  This  is  true,  but  you 
speak  of  that  darned  sock;  namely,  hannony — ha!  ha!  ha! 
You  think  sometimes  one  way  and  sometimes  another. 
Your  soul  is  full  of  bites!  You  are  idyllic  and  also  satirical. 
You  jeer  at  idyls,  and  still,  at  odd  times,  you  yearn  for  one 
somewhat.  Have  I  touched  the  point  accurately?  Are  my 
words  true  ?  " 

"  True,"  answered  Irene,  dropping  her  eyelids. 

She  dropped  her  lids  because  she  was  ashamed  of  the  dis- 
covery which  the  baron  had  made  in  her,  and  for  this  cause 
as  well,  that  she  felt  his  breath  on  her  face,  and  caught  the 
odor  of  certain  strange  perfumes  which  came  from  him. 
His  eyes  sought  hers  and  strove  to  pour  into  them  their  cold 
gleam,  which  was  also  a  burning  one.  He  strove  to  take  her 
hand,  but  she  withdrew  it,  and  he,  with  lowered,  drawling, 
and  somewhat  nasal  tones,  said: 

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The  Argonauts 

"You  wish,  and  again  you  do  not  wish;  you  feel  the 
cry  of  life  in  you  and  try  to  turn  it  into  a  lyric  song." 

The  cry  of  life!  Over  this  phrase  Irene  halted  later 
on,  but  briefly,  touched  as  she  had  been  by  premature  knowl- 
edge, its  meaning  became  clear  to  her  straightway.  The 
baron,  small,  fragile,  with  a  faded  face  and  irregular,  was 
a  master  in  calling  forth  the  "  cry  of  life  "  in  women.  His 
manner  with  them  was  exquisite,  but  also  insolent.  In 
his  gray  eyes,  with  the  reddened  edges  of  their  lids,  he  had 
a  look  which  was  hypnotising  in  its  persistence  and  cold 
fire.  It  resembled  the  glitter  of  steel — pale  and  penetrat- 
ing. In  the  manner  in  which  he  held  the  hand  of  a  woman 
and  placed  a  kiss  on  it,  in  the  glances  with  which  he  seemed 
to  tear  her  away  from  her  shelter,  in  the  intonation  given 
to  certain  words,  was  attained  the  primitiveness  of  desire 
and  conquest  under  cover  of  polished  refinement.  Amid  the 
tedium  and  dissatisfaction  of  ordinary  and  exercised  love- 
makers  this  method  seemed  cynical,  but  bold  and  honest.  It 
might  have  been  compared  to  the  shaggy  head  of  a  beast 
sticking  out  of  a  basket  of  heliotropes,  which  have  ever  the 
character  of  sameness  as  has  their  odor.  The  head  is  ugly, 
but  smells  of  a  cave  and  of  troglodytes,  which  among  com- 
mon flowers  of  dull  odor  lend  it  the  charm  of  power  and 
originality. 

Irene  thought  at  once  of  "  great  grandfatherliness; " 
when  in  presence  of  the  baron  her  nerves  quivered  like 
chords  when  touched  in  a  manner  unknown  up  to  that  time. 
She  asked  herself:  "Am  I  in  love?"  But  when  he  had 
gone  this  question  called  from  her  a  brief,  ironical  smile. 
She  analyzed  and  criticised  the  physical  and  moral  person- 
ality of  the  baron  with  perfect  coolness,  and  at  moments 
with  a  shade  of  contempt  even. 

A  vibrio!     This  expression  contained  the  conception 

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The  Argonauts 

of  physical  and  moral  withering,  almost  the  palpable  picture 
of  an  existence  which  merely  quivers  in  space,  and  is  barely 
capable  of  living.  In  comparison  with  this  picture  she  had 
a  presentiment  of  some  wholesome,  noble,  splendid  strength. 
Disgust  for  the  baron  began  to  flow  around  her  heart  and 
rise  to  her  lips  with  a  taste  that  was  repulsive,  and  to  her 
brain  with  a  thought  that  was  bitter:  Why  is  this  world  as 
it  is?  Why  is  it  not  different?  But  perhaps  it  was  different 
somewhere  else,  but  not  for  her?  She  had  ceased  to  believe 
in  an  idyl.  She  had  looked  too  long,  and  from  too  near  a 
point,  at  the  tragedy  and  irony  of  things  to  preserve  faith 
in  idyls.  Maybe  there  were  idyls  somewhere,  but  not  in 
the  sphere  Mdiere  she  lived — they  were  not  for  her!  To 
yearn  for  that  which  perhaps  did  not  exist  at  all,  which 
most  assuredly  did  not  exist  for  her!  What  a  "  rheumatism 
of  thought"  that  would  be!  Her  head,  with  a  Japanese 
knot  of  fiery  hair  on  the  top  of  it,  bent  down  low,  for  the 
stream  of  lead  from  her  heart  was  rising.  With  a  move- 
ment usual  to  her  she  clasped  her  long  hands,  and,  squeez- 
ing them  violently,  thought: 

"  Well,  what  of  it  ?  I  must  in  every  case  create  some 
future,  and  why  should  any  other  be  better  than  this  one? 
Here  at  least  is  sincerity  on  both  sides,  and  a  just  view  of 
things." 

As  time  passed  she  said  to  herself  that  what  she  felt  for 
the  baron  was  love  of  a  certain  kind,  and  that  at  the  founda- 
tion of  things  there  is  no  other  love,  and  if  there  is  any 
other  kind  it  does  not  signify  much,  for  each  kind  passes 
quickly.  She  began  in  general  to  attach  less  and  less  weight 
to  that  side  of  life,  and  also  life  itself  had  for  her  a  charm 
which  was  continually  decreasing.  In  the  gloom  of  weari- 
ness, and  the  apathy  into  which  she  was  falling,  that  which 
connected  her  with  the  baron  was  like  a  red    electric 

156 


The  Argonauts 

lantern  shining  on  a  throng  in  the  street  and  in  the  dark- 
ness. It  was  not  the  bright  sun,  nor  the  silvery  moon;  it 
was  just  that  red  lantern  which,  shining  on  a  throng  in 
the  street,  enabled  one  to  see  many  curious  or  brilliant  ob- 
jects. 

She  knew  of  Lili  Kerth,  and  the  role  which  she  played 
as  to  the  world  in  general  and  the  baron  in  particular.  The 
baron  in  that  case,  as  in  others,  wore  no  mask;  sometimes 
he  accompanied  Lili  Kerth  to  public  promenades,  and  some- 
times even  showed  himself  with  her  in  a  box  at  the  theatre. 
That  was  in  contradiction  with  morals,  especially  in  view 
of  his  relation  with  Irene;  but  subjection  to  morals,  would 
not  that  be  standing  guard  over  graves,  or  the  "  darned 
sock?  " 

In  this  case  Maryan,  without  knowing  why,  did  not  ap- 
plaud his  friend. 

"  C'est  crane,  mais  trop  coclion,'"  judged  he,  and  he 
pouted  a  little  at  the  baron,  but  looked  with  curiosity  at  his 
sister,  also  present  in  the  theatre.  Irene  sat  in  her  box  as 
usual,  calm  and  full  of  distinction,  a  little  formal,  never 
charmed  with  anything,  or  laughing  at  anything.  As  usual 
she  conversed  with  the  baron  between  acts,  till  Maryan,  look- 
ing at  her,  sneered,  and  asked: 

"How  did  your  vis-a-vis  please  you?" 

"Qui  cette  fille?"  asked  Irene,  carelessly,  "The  color 
of  her  hair  is  superb.    Pure  Venetian  gold." 

No  feeling  of  offence,  or  modesty. 

"Bravo!  "  said  Maryan.  And  with  comical  solemnity  in 
his  voice  he  added:  "  Dear  sister,  you  have  a  new  mentality 
altogether.  You  have  surpassed  my  expectations,  and  now 
I  shall  call  you  my  true  sister." 

Why?  Was  she  to  be  naive  in  a  theatre?  She  knew  well 
that  such  things  were  done  everywhere,  and  they  must  ex- 

156 


The  Argonauts 

ist  in  the  life  of  the  baron.  And,  if  they  must  exist,  then 
let  them  be  open,  for  mysteries — Oh!  she  preferred  any- 
thing to  masks  and  mysteries.  Besides  the  question  was 
mainly  in  this,  that  that  history  of  the  baron  and  the  famous 
singer  of  chansonettes  did  not  concern  her  in  any  way. 

One  evening  outside  the  windows  of  the  house  began  the 
twilight,  which  was  rather  pale  from  snow.  In  the  draw- 
ing-room sat  Irene  amid  the  cold  whiteness  of  sculpture, 
which  adorned  the  walls,  and  the  reflection  on  polished 
furniture  of  blue  watered-silk.  The  young  lady  was  seated 
at  one  of  the  windows  on  a  high  stool.  On  the  background 
of  the  window-pane,  filled  with  the  whitish  twilight,  her 
figure  seemed  tall,  with  narrow  shoulders,  and  her  profile 
somewhat  too  prolonged.  Over  this  profile  rose  a  knot  of 
fiery  hair,  and  the  whole  figure  reminded  one  of  a  statue 
of  a  priestess,  erect  and  smiling  enigmatically.  Her  eyelids 
were  drooping,  her  long  hands  were  clasped  on  her  robe; 
but  the  smiles  wandering  over  her  lips  and  ever  changing, 
were  not  those  of  satisfaction.  She  remembered  that  in  re- 
cent days  she  had  met  the  baron  oftener  than  before.  He 
strove  more  and  more  to  see  her — to  meet  her.  He  simply 
pursued  her — found  her  frequently  in  shops  which  she  vis- 
ited with  her  mother,  or  alone.  When  he  came  he  did  not 
shield  himself  with  the  excuse  of  chance,  but  said  with  his 
usual  sincerity: 

"  I  willed  to-day  to  see  you,  and  I  see  you.  I  know  how 
to  will ! " 

This  day  she  had  barely  entered  the  shop  of  a  celebrated 
tailor  when  he  entered  also,  and  immediately,  with  unusual 
animation,  began  to  tell  her  of  his  great  project  of  going 
to  America  and  settling  there  for  a  long  time,  perhaps  per- 
manently. He  was  roused  by  that  idea;  he  was  almost  en- 
thusiastic; the  hope  of  new  scenes  and  impressions,  perhaps 

157 


The  Argonauts 

great  profits,  had  fired  his  imagination.    Of  these  last  he 
spoke  also  to  Irene. 

"  One  must  move,  rouse  courage,  bring  the  nerves  into 
action,  otherwise  they  may  wither.  One  must  conquer  and 
win.  He  who  does  not  gain  victories  deserves  the  grave. 
Money  is  an  object  worthy  of  conquest,  for  it  opens  the 
gates  of  life.  William  Morris  is  a  famous  poet  and  artist, 
but  he  became  a  manufacturer.  He  understood  that  con- 
tempt for  industry  is  like  many  other  things,  a  painted  pot. 
Men  made  this  pot  and  poets  painted  it  in  beautiful  colors, 
then  the  poets  died  of  hunger.  America  holds  in  reserve 
new  horizons." 

He  spoke  long,  and  was  astonished  himself  at  his  own 
enthusiasm. 

"  I  thought,"  said  he,  '"'  that  I  should  never  know  en- 
thusiasm, and  I  supposed  even  that  it  was  a  rheumatism  of 
thought.  Meanwhile  I  feel  enthusiasm,  yes,  enthusiasm! 
And  it  pervades  me  with  a  delightful  shiver.  Do  you  not 
share  it?  Are  you  not  attracted,  as  well  as  I,  by  distant 
perspectives,  new  horizons,  '  the  divine  vibrations  of  blue 
seas,  the  silences  traversed  by  worlds,  by  angels ' — And 
plagiarizing  he  repeated  the  addition  made  by  Maryan: 
'And  by  millions'?" 

Yes,  she  was  attracted.  Not  by  the  millions;  she  was  too 
familiar  with  them,  but  the  distant  perspectives,  the  new 
horizons,  the  shoreless  expanses  of  oceans,  and  the  endless 
quiet  of  spaces  which  in  the  twinkle  of  an  eye  were  unfolded 
before  her  imagination.  The  dull  pain,  and  the  gloomy 
disgust  which  tortured  her  not  long  before,  cried  out: 
"  Yes!  yes!  go,  fly  far,  as  far  as  possible  under  new  skies, 
among  people  of  another  nationality!    Go,  fly,  seek." 

With  a  slight  flush  on  her  cheeks,  which  were  delicate  to 
the  highest  degree,  she  told  all  this  to  the  baron,  whose 
crumpled,  faded  face  was  gleaming  with  delight. 

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The  Argonauts 

"  Yoii  make  me  happy,  really  liappy!  "  whispered  he,  and 
added:  "Command  me  to  bow  down  before  you;  I  will 
obey  and  bow  down." 

Meanwhile  a  door-bell  was  heard  every  moment  in  the 
great  shop,  and  a  wave  of  people  passing  by  reminded  Irene 
of  the  reason  why  she  was  there.  She  turned  to  an  elegant 
apartment,  in  which  a  flood  of  materials  disposed  on  the 
furniture  was  waiting  for  her.  The  baron  had  a  knowledge 
of  the  wearing  apparel  of  ladies;  he  liked  to  speak  of  it; 
and  more  than  once,  with  the  accuracy  of  a  tailor,  and  the 
pleasure  of  an  artist,  he  told  of  the  original  and  peculiar 
toilets  seen  in  capitals.  On  this  occasion,  in  the  tailor's 
apartment  between  great  mirrors,  in  the  flood  of  unfolded 
materials,  he  said: 

"  I  beg  you  not  to  dress  according  to  pattern;  I  beg  you 
not  to  spoil  my  delight  by  forcing  me  to  see  on  you  any 
of  the  ridiculous  styles  of  this  city.  I  meet  no  ladies  here 
of  subtle  taste.  There  is  wealth,  frequently  there  is  even 
taste,  but  common,  according  to  pattern.  For  you  it  is 
necessary  to  think  out  something  new — something  symbolic, 
or  rather  something  which  symbolizes.  A  woman's  dress 
should  be  a  symbol  of  her  individuality.  For  you  it  is  neces- 
sary to  think  out  a  dress  which  would  symbolize  aristocracy 
of  soul  and  body." 

And  he  fell  to  thinking  out;  and  they  both  fell  to  think- 
ing out.  They  selected  among  colors  and  kinds  of  materials; 
they  examined  specimens,  drawings,  the  baron  corrected 
them,  completed  them  with  details  taken  from  his  own 
fancy.  After  a  certain  time  they  agreed  to  one  thing:  her 
dress  should  be  fiame  color.  With  Irene's  delicate  com- 
plexion and  her  fiery  hair  this  would,  as  the  baron  thought, 
form  a  whole  which  would  be  irritating. 

"  In  this  robe  you  will  be  novel  and  irritating." 
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The  Argonauts 

The  proprietor  of  the  shop,  elegant  and  important,  came 
in  and  went  out,  inquired,  advised,  and  again  left  them  to 
their  own  thoughts  and  decisions.  They,  on  their  part, 
amused  themselves  better  and  better,  surrounded  by  a  light 
cloud  of  perfumes  which  rose  from  their  clothing,  and  by 
the  rustle  of  silks  which  fell  to  their  feet,  like  cascades  of 
many  colors.  The  flame-colored  material  was  selected,  still 
they  went  on  selecting.  The  baron,  with  a  flush  appearing 
on  his  cheeks,  exclaimed: 

"We  are  passing  the  time  most  delightfully,  are  we  not? 
And  who  could  have  expected  it?  At  a  tailor's!  But  you 
and  I  know  how  to  experience  sensations  which  no  one 
else  can  experience.  For  that  it  is  necessary  to  have  a 
sixth  sense.    You  and  I  have  the  sixth  sense." 

Irene  began  to  lose  her  usual  formality  and  air  of  dis- 
tinction; she  spoke  quickly  and  much;  she  laughed  aloud, 
and,  a  number  of  times,  the  movement  of  her  bosom  and 
arms  became  irregular,  too  lively  at  moments,  but  they 
were  full  of  a  half  dreamy  gracefulness.  The  baron  grew 
silent  and  looked  at  her  for  a  while,  then,  with  rapturous 
eyes,  he  began: 

"  How  you  are  changed  at  this  moment.  How  charm- 
ingly you  are  changed!  Such  surprises  interest  one — they 
irritate.    You  have  the  rare  gift  of  causing  surprises." 

With  gleaming  eyes  he  begged  her  insistently  to  tell  him 
whether  the  change  which  had  taken  place,  the  humor  into 
which  she  had  fallen,  was  spontaneous  or  artificial,  the  re- 
sult of  feeling,  or  of  coquetry. 

"  You  are  without  doubt  the  product  of  high  training, 
so  it  is  difficult  to  know  in  you  that  which  is  nature  and 
that  which  is  art.  And  such  a  person  in  that  changed  form 
is  problematical — I  beg  you,  I  beg  you  to  tell  me  whether 
in  you  this  is  nature,  or  art?  " 

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The  Argonauts 

Listening  to  these  words,  in  wliich  a  very  insolent  idea 
was  contained,  she  laughed  and  turned  her  eyes  away.  But 
bending  toward  her  with  a  smile  which  might  remind  one 
of  a  satyr,  and  with  a  request  in  his  voice,  he  asked: 

"Is  this  nature?  is  it  art?" 

With  a  sudden  resolve  she  answered: 

"It  is  nature!" 

And  she  wished  to  equal  the  boldness  of  her  answer  with 
the  boldness  of  her  look,  but  a  flaming  blush  shot  over  her 
face,  and  the  lids  covered  her  eyes,  into  which  shame  had 
gushed  forth.  Though  maiden  modesty  was  a  painted  pot, 
this  new  change,  to  which  Irene  had  yielded,  exercised  on 
the  baron  a  new  irritating  influence.  In  the  midst  of  the 
rustling  materials  he  seized  both  her  hands,  his  eyes  flashed 
magnetic  rays  into  her  flushed  face;  he  drew  her  delicate 
form  toward  him.  She  tried  to  twist  her  hands  away,  and 
with  a  violent  effort  strove  to  throw  her  bust  backward,  but 
the  fragile  baron  was  very  strong  at  that  instant;  he  pressed 
her  hands  in  his  as  in  a  vice,  and  whispered  into  her  very 
face: 

"  Do  not  fight  against  that  cry  of  life  which  is  heard 
within  you — I  am  a  despot — I  know  how  to  will " 

With  the  last  word  he  pressed  his  lips  to  hers.  But  that 
moment  she,  too,  gained  unexpected  strength,  and  in  a  flash 
she  was  some  steps  away  from  him,  very  pale  now  and 
trembling  throughout  her  whole  body. 

"  This  is  too  much  of  nature!  "  cried  she. 

Her  head  was  erect,  and  from  her  eyes  came  flashing 
sparks,  which  soon  melted,  however,  into  cold  irony.  Shrug- 
ging her  shoulders,  with  a  smile  she  exclaimed: 

"  Dieu !  que  detail  vulgaire ! " 

Then  holding  her  skirt  with  both  hands,  as  if  she  wished 
not  to  take  one  atom  of  dust  from  that  room  with  her,  she 

161 


The  Argonauts 

went  out  into  the  shop;  the  baron  saw  her  talk  to  the  tailor 
for  a  moment  with  her  usual  coolness,  and  then  turn  to  go 
with  the  ordinary  words  of  brief  leave-taking. 

But  now  Irene  sitting  there  on  that  tall  stool  at  the 
window,  surrounded  by  the  fading  gleam  of  the  blue 
watered-silk,  and  against  the  background  of  the  pane 
which  was  covered  with  a  whitish  gloom,  seemed  a  statue 
with  a  delicate  bust,  and  a  somewhat  prolonged  profile  set- 
tled in  stony  fixedness.  The  "  cry  of  life  "  possessed  as 
words  the  charm  of  novelty  and  daring,  but  when  changed 
into  an  act  it  roused  in  her  every  feeling  of  offence  and 
maiden  modesty.  The  shaggy  beast  had  ventured  out  too 
far  from  behind  the  heliotropes,  and  had  given  forth  too 
rank  a  smell  of  the  den  and  the  troglodytes.  "  It  is  vul- 
gar ! "  cried  she  to  the  baron,  but  she  understood  imme- 
diately that  what  had  taken  place  was  neither  new,  nor  a 
rare  thing,  but  as  old  as  the  human  race  and  as  vulgar 
as  the  street  is.  The  tailor's  shop  full  of  people,  the 
ceaseless  ringing  at  the  door-bell,  the  noise  of  selling  and 
buying,  the  passage  beyond  the  window — is  the  street.  A 
kiss  received  on  the  street.  Street  adventure!  A  quiver 
shot  downward  through  her  shoulders.  Before  her  imagi- 
nation passed  the  wretched  forms  of  women  trailing  in 
the  dusk  of  evening  along  the  sidewalks.  On  her  inclined 
face  a  blush  came  out;  that  painted  pot  called  maiden, 
modesty,  under  the  form  of  inherited  instinct  and  wom- 
an's pride,  was  laboring  in  her  untiringly  and  painfully. 
After  a  while  its  place  was  taken  by  disgust  beyond  ex- 
pression. 

The  baron,  whose  single  charm  was  in  his  subtlety,  ap- 
peared now  as  a  vulgar  figure.  That  kind  of  mutual  love, 
which  she  had  thought  they  felt  for  each  other,  when, 
closely  analyzed,  reminded  her  of  pictures  in  which  Fauns 

162 


The  Argonauts 

with  goats'  beards  were  chasing  through  the  forest  after 
Nymphs.  On  Irene's  lips  a  jeering,  almost  angry  smile, 
now  fixed  itself.  What  did  he  say :  "  a  sixth  sense."  Why 
a  sixth  sense  in  this  case  ?  Empty  words !  The  baron 
jeers  at  painted  pots,  but  he  makes  them  himself,  and 
paints  them  in  the  ancient  colors.  An  idyl  is  an  old 
thing,  and  a  den  is  old  also,  but  the  idyl  would  be  better 
than  the  den  if  only  it  existed.  But  where  is  it?  Her 
eyes  had  never  seen  an  idyl,  but  they  had  seen,  ah,  they 
had  seen  what  happens  and  takes  place  with  loves  of  men 
and  women,  and  with  bonds  which  bear  the  name  of 
sacred!  Well,  what  is  to  be  done  with  the  baron — and 
America?  Such  contempt  for  everything,  such  disbelief 
in  all  things,  such  a  contemptuous  despising  of  everything, 
and  of  her  own  self  as  well,  embraced  her  and  possessed 
her,  that  at  the  end  of  the  meditation  she  said  to  her- 
self: "  It  is  all  one !  "  She  crossed  her  hands  and  pressed 
them  firmly  across  her  breast,  bent  her  head  somewhat, 
and  thought :   "  It  is  all,  all,  all  one !  " 

A  few  tears,  one  after  another,  fell  on  her  tightly  clasped 
fingers.    "All  one!    If  only  the  sooner!  " 

What  sooner?  Why  sooner?  With  a  slow  movement  she 
turned  her  face  toward  her  mother's  apartments;  her  lips 
which  quivered,  and  the  glistening  tear  which  had  fallen 
on  them  had  the  same  kind  of  expression  that  a  child  has 
when  crying  in  silence.  With  brows  raised  somewhat,  she 
whispered: 

"Mamma!" 

After  a  while,  imder  those  brows  which  were  like  delicate 
little  flames,  her  eyes  began  to  grow  mild,  to  lose  their  tears 
and  their  irony,  until  they  took  on  an  expression  of  such 
delight,  as  if  they  were  looking  at  an  idyl. 

Meanwhile  the  air,  modified  by  the  gray  twilight,  waa 
163 


The  Argonauts 

cut  by  a  bright  moving  line.  This  was  Cara  going  from 
her  father's  study  with  Puff  tugging  at  her  skirt.  She 
hummed  a  song  as  she  went  forward.  When  she  saw  her 
sister  she  ceased  humming,  and  called  out  from  the  end 
of  the  drawing-room: 

"  Do  you  know,  Ira,  father  will  dine  with  us  to-day?  " 

In  her  voice  a  note  of  triumph  was  heard.  After  many 
weeks  her  father  would  sit  for  the  first  time  with  them  at 
the  family  table,  and  then  everything  would  go  on  as  it 
should  go.  What  it  was  that  went  ill,  and  why  it  went  so, 
she  knew  not.  But  she  had  been  observing,  was  aston- 
ished, and  had  fears.  With  that  real  sixth  sense,  which 
persons  of  keen  sensitiveness  possess,  she  felt  something. 
She  felt  in  the  air  a  certain  oppression,  a  certain  trouble, 
and,  not  knowing  what  these  signified,  nor  whence  they 
were  coming,  she  suffered.  In  the  very  same  way,  organ- 
isms with  supersensitive  nerves  feel  the  approach  of  at- 
mospheric storms.  Now  she  advanced  with  a  short  step, 
erect  and  slender,  with  Puff  at  her  skirt,  while  she 
hummed  joyously. 

When  Irene  entered  her  mother's  study  soon  after,  she 
saw,  by  the  lamplight,  a  group  composed  of  three  persons. 
Sitting  on  the  sofa,  with  glitters  of  black  jet  in  her  light 
hair,  was  Malvina  Darvid;  nearby,  in  a  low  armchair,  in- 
clining toward  her,  was  Maryan,  elegant  as  usual,  and  before 
him,  with  elbows  resting  on  her  mother's  knees,  knelt 
Cara,  a  bright,  blue  strip  lying  across  the  black  silk  robe 
of  her  mother. 

"A  picture  deserving  the  eyes  of  Sarah  and  Eebecca! " 
suggested  Irene,  going  straight  to  the  mirror  before  which 
she  began,  with  raised  arms,  to  arrange  and  modify  the  knot 
of  hair  on  her  head.  Maryan,  in  good  humor,  was  implor- 
ing his  mother  to  let  him  have  her  portrait  painted  by 
one  of  the  most  noted  artists  in  the  city. 

164 


The  Argonauts 

"  His  brush  is  famous !  I  cannot  understand  how,  amid 
the  effeteness  of  this  city,  a  talent  can  rise  which  is  so 
fresh  and  individual.  In  his  landscapes  there  is  a  mag- 
nificent plcinair,  and  as  a  portrait  painter  he  knows  how 
to  seize  the  soul.  My  mother,  let  me  have  your  soul  en- 
chanted into  a  portrait — ^liave  you  noticed  that  the  eyes 
of  some  portraits  look  on  us  from  beyond  this  world? 
There  is  an  enchanted  soul  in  them.  Let  me  have  your 
portrait  painted  by  an  artist  from  whose  canvas  comes  a 
breath  from  beyond  this  world." 

He  inclined  his  cherub  head  and  kissed  his  mother's  hand, 
which  was  resting  on  Cara's  shoulder. 

"And  kiss  me,  too!"  cried  Cara. 

"  Sentiment!  "  said  Maryan,  straightening  himself,  "  be- 
ware of  sentiment,  little  one.  I,  thy  great-grandfather, 
say  this  to  thee." 

"  Splendidly  expressed ! "  exclaimed  Irene  from  the 
mirror.    "  Cara's  soul  is  so  primitive,  yours " 

"  So  decadent,"  put  in  Maryan. 

"  That  you  have  a  right  to  be  called  her  great-grand- 
father." 

"I  greet  you  great-grandmother! "  laughed  he  at  Irene. 
"  I  say  this,  mother,  for,  as  you  see,  I  understand  my  elder 
sister  perfectly,  but  not  the  little  one  yet;  however,  that 
will  come  some  time — surely  soon.  Mais  revenous  a  nos 
moutons:  How  about  the  portrait?" 

Malvina  laughed.  Her  face,  greatly  troubled  an  hour  be- 
fore, had  grown  young  again.  A  certain  sunray  had  pierced 
the  thick  cloud  at  that  moment.  She  warded  olf  the  idea 
of  the  portrait. 

"Why?  There  are  too  many  portraits  of  me  already. 
Oh,  too  many!  " 

"Caricatures!"  exclaimed  Maryan,  "and  none  of  them 

165 


The  Argonauts 

is  mine.    I  beg  a  portrait  for  myself  specially;  my  own  ex- 
clusive property." 

"  What  for?  "  repeated  Malvina.  "  Look  at  the  original 
as  often  as  you  like.  Better  not  have  a  portrait;  then,  per- 
haps, you  will  feel  the  need  of  seeing  me  oftener." 

"  No  reproaches,  dear  mother!  Leave  reproaches,  threats; 
let  the  whole  patriarchal  arsenal  remain  on  that  side,  over 
there " 

With  a  gesture  he  indicated  the  door  leading  to  the  in- 
terior of  the  house. 

Cara  raised  her  head  from  her  mother's  knees,  and  her 
eyes  glittered. 

"  But  on  this  side  let  there  be  only  sweetness,  only  charm, 
only  that  precious,  beautiful  weakness,  before  which  I  am 
on  my  knees  always.  As  to  this,  that  I  can  see  the  original 
of  the  portrait  when  I  wish,  that  is  a  question!  We  are 
grains  of  sand  scattered  over  the  world  by  the  wind  of  in- 
teresting voyages." 

"  Have  you  some  plan  of  a  journey  again  ?  "  inquired 
Malvina,  alarmed. 

"  Yes.  It  is  in  indistinct  lines  yet,  but  is  becoming 
more  definite  every  day.  This  wUl  be  the  step  of  a  giant 
— ^fleeing  before  that  rod  with  which  the  all-mighty  father 
is  pleased  to  beat  his  children." 

Again,  with  a  gesture  he  pointed  to  the  door  leading  to 
the  more  distant  apartments,  and  in  the  short  laugh  which 
accompanied  his  last  words  there  was  sarcasm — almost 
hatred.  At  the  same  moment  he  met  Cara's  eyes,  and 
asked: 

"Why  look  at  me,  little  one,  in  that  way?  There  are 
eyes!  curious,  anxious,  and  as  frightened  as  those  of  a 
hunted  deer.    Why  so  curious?    What  do  you  fear?" 

Cara  hid  her  face  in  her  mother's  dress,  quickly. 

166 


The  Argonauts 

"  But  how  would  it  please  you,  mamma,  to  make  a  trip 
with  me  to  America?  "  called  Irene  from  before  the  mirror. 

She  put  up  the  last  of  her  hair,  fastened  it  with  a  fan- 
tastic pin,  and  said,  turning  toward  her  mother: 

"  I  have  such  Tom  Thumb  boots  that  when  I  put  them 
on  I  shall  be  beyond  the  sea  with  three  great  steps.  How 
does  that  plan  please  you?" 

"You  give  a  shower  of  plans  to-day,"  jested  Malvina. 
"  A  portrait,  flight  from  the  rod,  America." 

"A  ball!"  exclaimed  Cara,  raising  her  head.  "Do  you 
know  of  it,  Maryan?  In  a  few  weeks  we  shall  have  a  real 
ball — a  grand  one." 

"  Your  tale  is  curious,  little  one,  tell  on,"  answered 
Maryan.  "  When  talk  is  the  question,  there  is  never  need 
to  beg  Cara  twice." 

She  sprang  up  from  her  knees  and  told  of  the  hour  which 
she  had  spent  in  her  father's  study  a  few  days  before.  She 
had  told  her  mother  and  sister  of  the  plan  of  the  ball,  but 
how  it  rose  she  had  not  told.  Something  had  prevented. 
Now  she  would  tell  them  all.  Three  gentlemen  had  visited 
her  father:  Prince  Zeno,  Count  Charski,  and  a  third  person 
whose  name  she  did  not  remember,  but  he  was  a  large  man, 
tall  and  broad;  his  breast  glittered  with  stars  and  crosses. 
She,  Caraj  wished  to  hide  from  the  guests  behind  the  book- 
shelves— there  were  shelves  behind  which  she  sat  often,  in- 
visible herself,  she  saw  and  heard  everything.  It  was  a 
wonderfully  comfortable  hiding-place,  in  which  her  only 
trouble  was  Puff;  for,  when  anyone  came  to  the  study  he 
wanted  to  bark,  but  she  squeezed  his  nose  with  her  hand 
tightly,  and  he  was  silent.  That  day  she  did  not  go  behind 
the  book-shelves,  for  her  father  commanded  her  to  sit  in 
the  armchair.     So  she  sat  there  with  dignity. 

Now  she  sat  on  the  stool,  and  showed  them  in  what  a 
167 


The  Argonauts 

posture  she  had  sat  in  presence  of  her  father's  guests,  her 
hands  on  her  knees,  bolt  upright,  with  dignity  on  her  rosy 
face.  Puffie  alone  interrupted  this  dignity,  she  said;  he 
crawled  up  behind  her,  put  his  paws  on  her  shoulder,  and 
touched  her  with  his  moist  nose.  One  of  the  gentlemen 
turned  then  to  her,  and  said: 

"  You  have  a  beautiful  dog,  young  lady." 

"He  is  very  nice,"  answered  she. 

"  And  what  is  his  name  ?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  Puffie,"  explained  she. 

She  did  not  laugh,  for  there  was  no  cause.  Puffie  was 
really  very  nice,  and  he  had  a  good  name,  but  those  gentle- 
men, while  looking  at  her,  smiled  very  agreeably,  and  one 
of  them  said  to  her  father: 

"  How  time  passes !  Not  long  ago  I  saw  your  younger 
daughter  a  little  child,  and  now " 

The  other  interrupted:  "  She  is  almost  grown.  And 
as  tall  it  seems  as  her  elder  sister." 

"  We  have  only  very  rarely  the  pleasure  of  seeing  your 
family  in  society  this  winter,"  said  the  other. 

"  Your  wife  and  daughter  pass  a  very  secluded  life  this 
year,"  said  the  second  visitor. 

"  My  wife  complains  of  frequent  neuralgia,"  answered 
father,  and  then  the  unknown,  large  man  talked. 

Hitherto  Cara,  while  giving  the  conversation  of  the  two 
gentlemen,  changed  her  voice,  imitating  the  tones,  and  post- 
ure of  each;  now  she  repeated  the  words  of  the  large  man 
in  the  rudest  voice  that  she  could  command: 

"  I  have  not  yet  had  the  honor  of  being  presented  to 
your  wife  and  elder  daughter,  but  I  have  heard  so  much, 
etc." 

Then  they  talked  longer  with  her  father  about  some- 
thing else,  and  when  going  away  gave  her  some  nice  com- 

168 


The  Argonauts 

pliments.  She  courtesied.  She  might  say  with  confidence 
that  she  had  played  the  role  of  a  mature  young  lady  brill- 
iantly. Her  father  said,  after  the  departure  of  the  guests, 
that  he  was  glad  to  receive  the  large  man's  visit.  The  large 
man  might  aid  him  greatly.  Then  he  thought  a  while, 
and  said: 

"  Do  you  know  what,  little  one,  you  must  show  yourself 
in  society." 

Here  Maryan  muttered  in  an  undertone:  "He  needs  a 
new  column  in  his  temple." 

Irene  smiled.  Malvina  feigned  not  to  hear;  Cara,  given 
up  to  her  twittering,  twittered  on: 

"  Then  father  said  that  mamma  and  Ira  were  leading  al- 
most the  life  of  a  cloister,  that  they  received  few  persons, 
and  went  out  little.  That  had  the  appearance  of  domestic 
misfortune,  or  of  bankruptcy.  Such  an  appearance  was  ugly 
in  general,  and  harmful  to  business.  To  avoid  this  there 
was  need  to  arrange  a  reception,  but  grand,  and  as  splendid 
as  possible.  The  carnival  would  be  over  soon,  and  at  the 
end  of  the  carnival  we  would  give  a  ball  in  which  the  '  ht- 
tle  one '  would  appear  in  society  for  the  first  time.  To- 
day, an  hour  ago,  father  said  he  would  come  to  us  at  dinner, 
and  would  talk  at  length  about  this  ball  with  mamma." 

Here  Cara  finished  the  narrative  which  was  somewhat  of 
a  dramatic  representation.  Maryan  rose  suddenly  from  his 
seat. 

"  I  must  go,"  said  he,  standing  rigidly,  and  with  a  serious 
face. 

"  Stay,  Maryan,"  said  INfalvina,  in  a  low  voice. 

On  her  face  was  a  look  of  pain;  a  deep  wrinkle  appeared 
on  her  forehead;  her  voice  was  imploring.  Maryan  looked 
at  her,  hesitated  a  while,  then  drojjping  into  an  armchair 
with  the  movement  of  an  automaton,  muttered: 

169 


The  Argonauts 

"Let  thy  will  be  done!  Let  a  pot  be  painted  with  the 
color  of  a  son's  love — for  you,  mother." 

From  the  thought  that  he  must  meet  his  father  soon,  the 
interior  of  his  heart  began  to  desiccate, 

A  servant  announced  the  dinner.  Cara  sprang  up  from 
the  stool: 

"  I  will  go  to  conduct  father!  " 

She  went  to  the  door,  but  turned  back  from  it,  and,  drop- 
ping on  her  knees  before  her  mother,  put  a  number  of  long, 
passionate  kisses  on  her  knees  and  her  hand.  Then  hang- 
ing on  her  neck,  she  whispered  in  a  low  voice: 

"  Golden,  only,  dearest  mamma."  And  springing  from 
her  knees  she  flew  out  of  the  room  like  a  bird. 

What  did  that  violent  outburst  of  tenderness  for  her 
mother  mean?  No  one  knew,  neither  did  she  herself,  per- 
haps. Was  it  a  prayer  for  someone,  or  the  assurance  that 
she  loved  greatly  not  only  that  one,  but  her  mother  too?  or 
was  it  delight  that  at  last  she  would  see  them  both  together? 
She  flew  like  a  bird  through  the  drawing-rooms,  lighted  by 
lamps  burning  here  and  there,  till  she  pushed  quietly  into 
her  father's  study,  and  put  her  hand  under  his  arm  at  the 
writing-desk.  All  rosy,  imitating  the  deep  and  solemn 
voice  of  the  servant,  she  said: 

"  Dinner  is  served!  " 

Darvid  felt  a  stream  of  warmth  and  sweetness  flowing 
to  his  breast. 

"  Oh,  you  rogue! "  said  he,  "  you  sunray!  You  little 
one! " 

When  he  was  entering  the  dining-room  soon  after  with 
Cara,  Maryan  led  in  his  mother  through  the  opposite  door; 
she  was  all  in  black  silk  and  jet. 

Darvid  inclined  and  touched  his  wife's  hand  with  his 
lips;  on  Malvina's  face  there  was  a  pleasant  smile. 

170 


The  Argonauts 

"I  am  60  immensely  occupied,"  said  he,  "that  I  have 
not  time  every  day  to  inquire  after  your  health." 

"  I  thank  you,  my  health  is  excellent." 

At  a  rich  side-table  two  servants  vv^ere  occupied;  at  the 
table  gleaming  with  crystal  and  silver  stood  Miss  Mary, 
graceful  and  still  young,  with  puritanic  simplicity  in  her 
closely  fitting  garment,  and  with  smooth  hair  over  her 
calm  forehead.  The  master  of  the  house  greeted  her  and 
expressed  his  regret  that,  because  of  business,  he  could 
see  her  only  rarely.  When  all  were  seated  at  table,  Mal- 
vina,  with  the  experience  of  a  trained  lady  of  the  house, 
began  conversation: 

"  We  have  been  talking  Just  now  of  the  United  States, 
with  which  Ira  and  Maryan  have  begun  to  be  greatly  in- 
terested." 

"  No  doubt  because  of  the  exhibition  at  Chicago,"  said 
Darvid;   "  it  must  be  something  colossal  indeed." 

Miss  Mary  mentioned  the  congress  of  women  which  was 
to  meet  there.  Malvina  and  Irene  supplemented  that  state- 
ment with  details;  the  conversation  flowed  on  smoothly, 
easily,  coolly;  it  was  filled  with  various  kinds  of  informa- 
tion. Maryan  took  no  part  in  it.  He  sat  stiff,  deaf,  dumb, 
with  fixed  features.  When  he  ate,  his  movements  had  the 
appearance  of  an  automaton,  even  his  eyelids  winked  very 
rarely.  He  was  a  picture  of  apathy,  contempt,  and  bilious- 
ness. Even  his  fair  complexion  had  grown  sallow,  and  his 
lips  had  paled.  He  caused  exactly  the  impression  of  a  wax 
doll  in  an  elegant  dress,  with  glittering  eyes. 

Darvid,  with  some  humor  and  playfully,  spoke  of  the  edi- 
fice which  was  to  be  erected  in  Chicago  according  to  a  plan 
by  a  female  architect. 

"  I  tremble  for  those  who  are  to  visit  the  buildiug. 
In  architecture,  equilibrium   has  immense   meaning,  and 

171 


The  Argonauts 

for  women  equilibrium  is  most  difficult.  Women  lose 
equilibrium  so  easily,  so  generally,  so  inevitably,  al- 
most." 

This  was  said  in  a  manner  quite  airy  and  trifling;  still — 
it  was  unknown  why — in  the  voice  of  the  speaker  certain 
biting  tones  quivered,  and  a  pale  flush  came  out  on  Mal- 
vina's  forehead.  Irene  fell  at  once  to  talking  most  viva- 
ciously with  Miss  Mary  about  the  latest  movement  among 
English  women  toward  emancipation,  and  Darvid  himself, 
with  some  haste,  expressed  quietly,  though  with  some  irony, 
opinions  touching  these  movements. 

A  great  bronze  lamp  cast  abundant  light  on  the  table, 
which  was  covered  with  the  brightness  of  silver  and  crystal. 
White-gloved  servants,  as  silent  as  apparitions,  changed  the 
plates  adorned  with  painted  and  gilded  monograms;  with 
bottles  in  their  hands  they  inquired  about  the  kind  of  wine 
which  they  were  to  pour  out;  they  served  dishes  from  which 
came  the  excellent  odor  of  truffles,  pickles,  rare  meat,  and 
vegetables.  A  number  of  wall-lamps,  placed  high,  lighted 
the  sides  of  the  dining-hall,  which  was  decked  with  pictures 
in  brightly  shining  frames,  and  with  festoons  of  heavy  cur- 
tains at  the  doors  and  windows.  When  it  left  America,  the 
conversation,  carried  on  in  French  and  English,  turned  to 
European  capitals  and  to  the  various  phenomena  of  life  in 
them.  English  was  spoken  out  of  regard  for  Miss  Mary, 
but  French  sometimes,  for  Darvid  and  his  wife  preferred 
that  language  to  English.  Irene  and  Cara  might  have  been 
considered  as  genuine  English.  The  ready  and  accurate 
English;  the  pure  Parisian  French;  the  varied  information, 
in  an  atmosphere  of  light  falling  from  above  on  a  table 
glittering  with  costly  plate;  the  order  and  the  dignified 
ornaments  of  the  great  hall;  the  grand  scale  of  living  seemed 
undoubted  higli  life.    There  was  a  moment  in  which  Darvid 

172 


The  Argonauts 

cast  his  glance  around  and  threw  back  his  head  somewhat; 
his  forehead  freed  itself  from  wrinkles — smooth,  clever, 
shining  somewhat  at  the  temples — it  seemed  to  be  carved 
o^^t  of  ivory.  His  nostrils,  delicate  and  nervous,  expanded 
and  contracted,  as  if  inhaling,  with  the  odor  of  wines  and 
delicacies,  the  more  subtle  and  intoxicating  odor  of  his  own 
greatness.  But  this  lasted  only  a  short  time;  soon  certain 
pebbles  of  seriousness  and  breaths  of  distraction  began  to 
interrupt  his  conversation  and  to  dull  his  clear  thought. 
Balancing  in  two  fingers  a  dessert  knife,  he  said  to  Miss 
Mary: 

"  I  respect  your  countrymen  greatly  for  their  practical 
sense  and  sound  reason.  That's  a  people — that's  a  peo- 
ple  " 

He  stammered  somewhat  now — a  thing  which,  in  his  low 
and  fluent  speech,  never  happened.  He  was  thinking  of 
something  else. 

"  That  is  the  nation  which  said  to  itself:  '  Time  is 
money,'  which  also " 

Again  he  faltered.  His  eyes,  attracted  by  an  invincible 
power,  turned  continually  toward  that  point  of  the  table 
where  black  jets  glittered  richly  and  gloomily,  and  then  his 
lips  finished  the  judgment  which  he  had  begun: 

"  Which  also  possesses  to-day  the  greatest  money-power." 

Here  Maryan  spoke  for  the  first  time: 

"  Not  only  money;  England  now  leads  the  newest  ten- 
dencies in  art." 

This  was  spoken  at  the  edges  of  his  lips,  without  co- 
operation of  other  parts  of  his  face,  which  continued  fixed; 
and  on  Darvid's  lips  appeared  his  smile,  of  which  people 
said  that  it  bristled  with  i)ins. 

"  The  newest  tendencies  of  art! "  repeated  he,  and  the 
words  hissed  in  his  mouth  somewhat.     "  Art  is  something 

173 


The  Argonauts 

splendid,  but  the  pity  is  that  it  is  turned  into  a  plaything 
by  wrongly  reared  children!  " 

Maryan  raised  at  his  father  a  look  from  which  a  whole 
flood  of  irony  rushed  forth,  and  answered,  with  the  edge 
of  his  lips: 

"  He  alone  is  not  a  child  who  knows  that  we  are  all 
children,  turning  everything  into  playthings  for  ourselves. 
The  point  is  that  there  are  various  playthings." 

"  Maryan!  "  whispered  Malvina,  with  an  alarm  which  she 
could  not  suppress. 

Darvid  turned  his  face  to  her  suddenly,  and  their  glances 
which  till  then  had  avoided  each  other  carefully,  met  for  a 
few  seconds;  but  during  that  time  Darvid's  eyes  filled 
with  the  glitter  of  keen  steel,  and  Malvina  bent  her  face 
so  low  over  the  plate  that,  in  the  sharp  light,  one  could 
see  only  her  forehead,  with  its  one  deep  wrinkle.  But  that 
same  moment  Irene  began  to  converse  with  her  father 
about  London,  where  he  had  spent  a  considerable  time  on 
two  occasions.  He  answered  her  at  once;  spoke  long, 
fluently,  and  interestingly,  engaging  also  in  the  conversa- 
tion Miss  Mary,  to  whom  he  turned  frequently  and  with 
pleasure. 

Again  the  conversation  went  on  smoothly,  easily,  dehb- 
erately.  Above  the  table,  in  place  of  the  odors  of  meats  and 
sauces,  hovered  the  light  odors  of  fruit  and  vanilla.  When 
the  dessert  was  served,  Darvid  spoke  of  fruits  pecuhar  to 
various  climates  which  he  had  visited  in  his  almost  ceaseless 
journeys;  all  at  once  he  stopped  the  conversation  in  mid- 
career,  and  turned  to  Cara,  who  struggled  a  few  times  with 
a  dry  and  stubborn  cough. 

"I  thought  that  you  had  recovered  entirely.  But 
you  are  coughing  yet.    That  is  sad!  " 

On  the  girl's  face,  which  was  flushing  in  a  fiery  manner, 

174 


The  Argonauts 

there  was  an  expression  of  sorrow  or  anger.  Quickly  and 
broken  came  the  words  from  her  lips  which  were  pouting 
like  those  of  an  angry  child : 

"  There  are  so  many  sad  things  in  the  world,  father,  that 
my  cough  is  a  bit  of  dust  compared  with  them." 

This  was  an  answer  thoroughly  unexpected,  but  the  im- 
pression which  it  might  have  made  was  hindered  at  once  by 
Irene  through  a  laugh  and  an  exclamation  too  loud,  per- 
haps: 

"  See  where  pessimism  is  going  to  fix  itself!  Is  Puffie 
sick?" 

"  Cara's  remark  is  precocious  but  pointed,"  said  Maryan, 
with  the  edges  of  his  lips, 

Malvina,  too,  began  to  speak.  Giving  a  small  cup  to  her 
son,  she  inquired: 

"  You  like  black  coffee  so  well  that  I  ought  to  reserve 
another  cup,  ought  I  not  ?  " 

Maryan  made  no  answer;  with  a  wrinkle  on  her  forehead, 
and  a  smile  on  her  lips,  she  continued  quickly  and  hurriedly: 

"  I  share  your  taste  for  coffee,  Maryan.  Some  time  ago 
I  drank  much  coffee,  but  I  saw  that  it  injured  my  nerves 
and  deprived  me  of  sleep.  It  is  very  disagreeable  not  to 
sleep,  and  better  to  give  up  a  favorite  luxury  than  suffer 
from  insomnia." 

Smiling  and  moving  her  head  she  talked,  and  talked  on 
with  great  charm,  and  with  a  sweetness  which  always  filled 
the  tones  of  her  voice.  She  mentioned  mere  nothings,  con- 
necting opinion  with  opinion,  just  to  talk,  to  kill  time,  or 
avoid  other  topics.  Darvid  raised  his  head  somewhat  and 
looked  at  her  through  the  glasses  with  which  he  had  shaded 
his  eyes  until  she  bent  her  head  before  the  gleam  in  those 
glasses,  and  her  face  sank  very  low  over  the  cup,  and  was 
covered  with  an  expression  not  to  be  hidden  by  a  woman  who 

175 


The  Argonauts 

wants  to  vanish  through  the  earth,  dissolve  in  air,  become  a 
shade,  become  dust,  become  a  corpse;  if  she  can  only  escape 
from  where  she  is  and  from  being  what  she  is.  Then  Irene, 
with  a  light  tap,  dropping  her  cup  on  the  saucer,  began: 

"  You  must  know  well,  father,  how  they  make  coffee  in 
the  Orient?" 

He  knew,  for  he  had  been  in  the  Orient;  and,  in  a  way 
which  was  picturesque  enough,  he  told  about  the  Turks; 
how,  sitting  around  in  a  circle,  they  put  the  favorite  drink 
into  their  mouths  slowly. 

"  They  delight  themselves  with  it,  as  dignified  as  Magi, 
and  silent  as  fish.  The  time  in  which  they  give  themselves 
to  this  absolute  rest,  composed  of  black  coffee  and  silence, 
bears  with  them  the  name  '  keif.'  " 

This  word  called  laughter  to  the  lips  of  all.  Darvid 
laughed,  too.  On  all  faces  weariness  grew  evident.  Cara's 
thin  voice  called  out: 

"  The  Turks  do  well  to  be  silent,  for  what  good  is  there  in 
people's  talk?    What  good  is  there?  " 

"Here  is  a  little  sage,  she  is  never  satisfied  with  ques- 
tions," said  Darvid,  jestingly. 

"  Capacity  for  criticism  is  a  family  trait  of  ours,"  laughed 
Irene. 

"  Cara  had  been  distinguished  by  curiosity  from  child- 
hood," added  Malvina,  with  a  smile. 

Even  Maryan,  looking  at  his  younger  sister,  said: 

"  The  time  always  comes  when  children  begin  to  speak 
instead  of  prattling." 

Miss  Mary,  with  an  anxious  forehead  under  her  puritan 
hair,  said  nothing. 

On  the  faces  of  all  who  spoke,  anxiety  was  evident,  and 
above  the  smiling  lips  weariness  was  present  in  every  eye. 

Malvina  rose  from  her  chair;  Darvid  left  his  place,  bowed 

176 


The  Argonauts 

to  all  with  exquisite  politeness,  and,  advancing  some  steps, 
gave  his  arm  to  his  wife. 

They  passed  through  a  small,  brightly  lighted  drawing- 
room  and  halted  in  the  following  chamber,  where  the  walls 
were  adorned  with  white  garlands  and  the  curtains  and 
upholstering  were  of  blue  watered-silk.  Beyond,  in  a  small 
drawing-room.  Miss  Mary  sat  down  to  play  chess  with 
Maryan;  Cara  took  her  place  near  them  in  the  character  of 
observer,  and  Irene  unrolled  in  the  lamp-light  a  piece  of 
church  stuff,  very  old  and  time-worn,  which  the  baron  had 
brought  her  as  a  rarity,  and  which  she  intended  to  repair 
by  embroidering  it  with  silk  and  gold  thread. 

Darvid  and  j\Ialvina  stopped  among  the  pieces  of  blue 
furniture  in  the  tempered  light  of  a  shade-covered  lamp. 
Malvina  was  very  pale,  and  her  heart  must  have  beaten  with 
violence,  for  her  breath  was  hurried.  At  last  that  had  come 
which  she  had  waited  for  long  and  vainly:  a  positive  and 
decisive  conversation. 

With  all  her  strength  she  desired  an  explanation,  a  change 
of  some  kind,  and  in  any  shape,  if  it  would  only  bring  a 
change  in  her  position.  She  was  waiting,  ready  to  yield  to 
everything,  to  endure  everything,  if  he  would  only  speak. 
He  spoke,  and  said: 

"  To-morrow  I  shall  go  to  a  hunt  on  the  estate  of  Prince 
Zeno,  and  as  I  go  from  there  to  a  place  where  I  have  busi- 
ness, I  shall  return  in  ten  days,  more  or  less.  Immediately 
after  my  return,  and  during  the  last  week  of  the  Carnival-, 
there  will  be  in  our  house  a  reception,  a  ball  simply,  the 
most  brilliant  possible.  My  business  requires  it,  and  public 
opinion  concerning  this  family  requires  it  also.  I  wish, 
too,  that  Cara  should  make  her  first  appearance  in  society 
at  that  ball.  I  have  drawn  up,  and  will  send  you  a  list  of 
persons  to  whom  it  is  necessary  to  send  invitations,  per- 

177 


The  Argonauts 

sons  of  whom  3^011  might  not  have  thought;  the  rest  of 
society  you  know  better  than  I  do.  I  know  that  you  can 
arrange  such  matters  excellently,  and  I  trust  that  this 
time  you  will  do  all  that  is  best.  The  check-book  will  be 
brought  you  by  my  secretary,  whose  abilities  and  time  you 
may  use  without  limit,  as  well  as  the  check-book.  There 
is  no  need  to  hesitate  at  outlay;  everything  should  be  in 
a  style  rarely  seen  in  any  house,  or  rather  in  a  style  never 
seen  except  in  this  house.  This  ball  is  needed  for  my 
business  and  for — public  opinion  concerning  our  family, 
which  opinion  is  a  little,  even  more  than  a  little,  low- 
ered." 

He  spoke  slowly  and  politely,  with  an  accent  of  command 
at  the  basis  of  the  politeness.  At  the  last  words  he  cast  into 
her  face  a  gleam  of  his  eyes  which  was  firm  and  penetrating, 
then  he  bowed,  and  made  a  move  to  go. 

"  Aloysius! "  cried  Malvina,  with  tightly  clasped  hands, 
and  she  began  to  tremble.  How  was  this?  A  ball,  and 
nothing  more!  The  qviestion  with  her  was  of  things  as  im- 
portant as  human  dignity,  conscience,  unendurable  restraint, 
and  fear  in  the  presence  of  her  children. 

He  stopped  and  inquired: 

"  What  is  your  command?  " 

She  bowed  her  head  and  began: 

"I  require;  I  wish  to  speak  with  you  at  length  and 
positively." 

He  smiled. 

"For  what  purpose?  We  have  nothing  pleasant  to  say 
to  each  other,  and  unpleasant  conversation  injures  the  nerves 
more  than — black  coffee." 

She  raised  her  head,  and  with  an  effort,  to  which  she 
brought  herself  with  difficulty,  said: 

"  Things  cannot  remain  as  they  are.    My  position " 

178 


The  Argonauts 

With  an  expression  of  profoundest  astonishment  on  his 
face,  he  interrupted: 

"  Your  position!    But  your  position  is  brilHant!  " 

He  made  a  gesture  which  seemed  to  indicate  everything 
which  was  in  that  drawing-room,  and  in  the  whole  house; 
but  she  Hushed  deeply,  and  like  one  in  whom  the  sensitive 
place  is  touched,  exclaimed: 

"  But  this  is  Just  what — what  I  do  not  wish  any  longer. 
I  have  the  right  to  desire  to  he  free,  to  withdraw,  to  cast 
from  myself  this  glitter,  and  go  somewhere." 

With  all  her  strength  she  struggled  against  the  tears  which 
were  overpowering  her.  He  repeated  with  the  profoundest 
astonishment: 

"  You  do  not  wish?    You  have  the  right?  " 

Everything  in  him — cheeks,  wrinkles  on  his  forehead, 
pale  lips — trembled  with  excitement  now  beyond  restraint. 
But  he  was  master  of  his  voice  yet.  He  spoke  in  low  tones, 
but  with  a  hiss: 

"  What  right  ?  You  have  no  right !  You  have  lost 
every  right !  You  do  not  wish  ?  You  have  no  right  to 
wish,  or  not  to  wish.  You  must  live  as  it  happens  you, 
and  as  is  needed.  As  to  conversations  and  serious  theat- 
rical scenes,  I  want  none  of  them — I,  who  have  not  lost 
the  right  to  wish.  I  am  silent,  and  I  will  enforce  silence. 
That  is,  and  will  always  be,  our  modus  vivendi,  which, 
moreover,  should  be  for  you  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world 
to  preserve.  You  have  everything:  a  high  position,  lux- 
ury, brilliancy,  even  the  love  of  your  children  as  it  seems. 
You  have  everything  except — except " 

He  hesitated.  His  habit  of  preserving  in  all  cases  correct- 
ness of  form,  struggled  with  the  excitement  which  had  over- 
come him,  and  these  words  hissed  through  his  lips  in  a  low 
though  envenomed  voice: 

179 


The  Argonauts 

"  Except — the  lover  whom  you  have  dismissed,  on  which 
deed  I  congratulate  you,  and — my  respect,  which  you  have 
lost,  but  without  which  you  must  live  on  to  the  end.  On 
this  subject  we  are  talking  now  for  the  first  and  last  time. 
We  are  talking  too  long.  I  am  in  a  hurry  to  my  work.  I 
wish  you  good-night.^' 

The  bow  which  he  made  before  his  wife  might  seem  from 
a  distance  full  of  friendly  kindness;  he  withdrew  with  per- 
fect calmness  and  freedom  of  manner,  still  Irene  went  to 
her  mother  with  a  firm  though  hurried  step,  and  with  the 
piece  of  ancient  stuff  in  her  hand,  she  said: 

"  I  am  sure  that  without  your  assistance  I  shall  not  be 
equal  to  my  task.  To  restore  this  Middle  Age  wonder  re- 
quires taste,  an  eye,  shading  of  colors;  all  this  is  beyond 
my  poor  ability." 

She  stood  before  her  mother,  and  among  the  large  flowers 
on  the  cloth,  which  was  changing  from  silver  to  sapphire, 
she  indicated  certain  defects  produced  by  time.  Her  eye- 
lids blinked  with  marvellous  quickness,  and  therefore,  per- 
haps, she  did  not  notice  her  mother's  chalky  pallor,  trem- 
bling hands,  and  despairing  expression  of  eyes.  Apparently 
noticing  nothing  she  spoke  in  a  loud  voice  and  joyously: 

"  You  have  an  ocean  of  various  silks  left  after  so  many 
things  which  we  made  in  company.  Let  us  search  among 
them.  Shall  we  go?  They  are  in  your  chamber.  Come, 
mamma!  I  am  so  impatient  to  begin  the  restoration  of  this 
beautiful  ruin!  You  will  help  me  to  match  the  silks,  will 
you  not?  Oh,  how  many  beautiful  things  you  and  I  have 
made  together  with  these  four  hands  of  ours,  which  were 
always  in  company." 

And  they  were  in  company  then.  She  thrust  her  hand 
under  her  mother's  arm,  and  holding  the  strip  of  silver  and 
azure  stuff  she  escorted  the  very  pale  woman  in  black  jets 

180 


The  Argonauts 

through  the  brilliantly  lighted  drawing-room,  past  the 
chess-table  at  which  were  sitting  three  persons,  through  the 
dining-hall,  where  servants  were  hurrying,  through  her 
mother's  study,  in  which  both  had  passed  most  hours  of 
their  life,  till  she  came  to  Malvina's  bedroom,  where,  amid 
the  yellow  damask  furniture  a  shaded  lamp  was  burning. 
In  the  twinkle  of  an  eye  Irene  drew  the  brass  door-bolt, 
and  with  face  turned  toward  her  mother,  with  cheeks  which 
flushed  immediately,  she  took  Malvina's  two  hands  in  her 
own. 

"  Enough  of  these  secrets,  of  things  partly  said,  and  of 
barriers  raised  between  our  hearts  and  lips." 

This  hurried  whisper  burst  from  her  like  a  current  from 
a  covered  vessel  filled  with  heat  and  opened  suddenly. 

"  Let  us  tell  each  other  everything — or  no,  say  no  word, 
I  know  everything  and  neither  will  I  speak — but  let  us 
counsel — let  us  meditate  together — Oh,  mamma!  " 

Her  form,  usually  erect  and  distinguished,  bent,  and 
trembled  like  a  reed,  and  her  lips,  famous  for  irony  and 
coldness,  scattered  a  shower  of  kisses  on  the  hands  and 
face  of  her  mother,  whose  chalky  paleness  was  covered  by 
a  flame  of  blushes. 

"  Ira!  "  she  exclaimed,  "  forgive.    May  God  forgive  me." 

Unable  to  utter  more  than  these  words  she  dropped  on  her 
knees  and  touched  the  yellow  cushion  of  the  low  sofa  with 
her  head.  She  seemed  shattered,  annihilated.  Then  Irene 
grew  cold  again.  Sober  thought  and  strong  will  shone  in 
her  eyes.  She  bent  over  her  mother,  placed  her  delicate 
hand  on  her  shoulder,  and  began  almost  with  the  movement 
of  a  guardian: 

''  Mamma,  I  beg  you  not  to  despair,  and  above  all  not  to 
torture  yourself  with  that  which  you  consider  a  reproach 
and  a  sin.     Never  say  to  your  children  *  forgive,'  for  we 

181 


The  Argonauts 

cannot  be  your  judges — I,  least  of  all.  You  have  ever  been 
kind  to  us  and  as  loving  as  an  angel;  we  have  lived  with  you; 
we  love  you — I  most  of  all.  Eemember  at  all  times  that 
a  loyal  heart  is  near  you  and — a  kindred  one — for  it  is  the 
heart  of  a  daughter.  You  must  stand  erect,  have  will,  think 
out  something,  frame  something,  have  decision,  save  your- 
self." 

Looking  into  her  mother's  face  with  a  strange  smile,  she 
added: 

"  And  save  me,  perhaps,  for  I,  too,  am  a  poor,  unwise 
creature;   I  know  not  myself  what  to  do." 

Malvina  raised  her  head,  straightened  herself,  and  rose 
from  her  knees  slowly. 

"  True,"  whispered  she.  ""'  You — you,  so  long  and  so 
earnestly  have  I  wished  to  speak — of  you — and  had  not 
the  courage." 

"  Well,  let  us  speak  now,"  said  Irene. 

And  again  putting  her  hand  under  her  mother's  arm,  she 
led  her  to  the  ottoman,  which  stood  in  the  tempered  lamp- 
light. 

"  The  door  is  bolted,  no  one  can  disturb  us;  we  will  have 
a  talk,  a  long  one.  Only  we  must  be  reasonable,  calm. 
Look  at  things  and  ourselves  clearly;  know  definitely  what 
we  want;  try  to  bring  our  plans  into  action;  know  how  to 
wish." 

At  these  last  words  she  imitated  the  nasal  voice  of  Baron 
Emil,  laughed  at  it,  and  dropped  d(5wn  on  the  carpet  before 
Malvina  had  seated  herself  on  the  low  ottoman.  Irene, 
taking  her  mother's  hands  in  her  own,  fixed  her  eyes  on 
her  eyes,  and  began: 

"  Mamma,  if  you  wish  I  shall  become  very  soon  the  wife 
of  the  famous  Mediaevalist,  Baron  Emil,  and  we  shall  all 

three  of  us  go  to  America — beyond  the  seas " 

182 


The  Argonauts 

"  Oh,  no!  no!  no!  "  exclaimed  Malvina,  who  bent  toward 
her  daughter,  and  put  her  arms  around  the  young  woman 
with  such  terror  as  if  she  were  shielding  her  from  a  falling 
house.  "ISTot  that!  Not  that!  Something  different — 
entirely  different." 

At  that  moment  some  impulsive,  or  impatient,  hand  shook 
the  door-latch. 

"  ISTot  permitted!  "  cried  Irene,  and  she  asked:  "  Who  is 
there?" 

There  was  no  answer,  but  the  latch  moved  again,  though 
in  a  timid,  and,  as  it  were,  imploring  manner. 

"  You  cannot  come  in,"  repeated  Irene. 

There  was  a  rustle  against  the  sofa  outside,  a  light  and 
quick  step  moved  away. 

"  Cara!  "  whispered  Malvina. 

"  For  her  as  well  as  for  ourselves  there  is  need  to  end  this 
position  at  the  earliest,"  said  Irene,  with  a  sudden  frown. 

It  was  Cara;  she  had  left  the  door  of  her  mother's  room 
with  drooping  head,  with  a  great  frown  on  her  forehead, 
and  no  thought  for  the  little  dog,  tugging  at  her  skirt  aa 
usual.  Half  an  hour  before,  when  Maryan  and  Miss  Mary 
had  risen  from  chess,  she  rose,  too,  pushed  her  hand 
under  her  brother's  arm  and  said: 

"  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

Her  seriousness  was  so  evident  that  Maryan  answered, 
with  a  smile: 

"  If  your  speech  is  to  be  as  solemn  as  your  face  is  we  shall 
have  little  joy.    What  have  you  to  tell  me  ?  " 

Without  answering  she  led  him  through  the  blue  draw- 
ing-room to  the  next  one  more  faintly  lighted.  Here  she 
halted,  looked  around,  and,  seeing  only  inanimate  objects, 
asked: 

"  Why  have  you  quarrelled  with  father  ?  " 

183 


The  Argonauts 

This  question  in  her  mouth  astonished  him,  and  he  asked 
in  turn: 

"  Why  do  you  wish  this  information?  You  might  dream 
of  the  role  of  peacemaker." 

Without  a  shade  of  laughter,  with  forehead  somewhat 
wrinkled  beneath  bright  curls  of  hair,  she  repeated  the  ques- 
tion: 

"Why  have  you  quarrelled  with  father?  Do  you  not 
love  him?  Why  can  you  not  love  him?  For  me,  father  is 
an  ideal!  He  is  so  wise,  noble,  great.  TNHien  he  was  so  long 
away  I  dreamed  about  him,  wanted  his  return,  imagined 
how  happy  we  should  all  be  when  he  came.  But  that  is  not 
the  case  in  any  way.  All  in  the  house  seem  to  be  at  variance, 
angry,  disappointed — I  see  this  well,  but  I  cannot  under- 
stand why.    Why?    why  is  it?" 

Maryan  fixed  his  eyes  on  her  attentively  and  laughed,  but 
his  laugh  was  not  sincere,  it  was  forced. 

"  Curiosity,"  said  he,  "  is  the  first  step  toward  hell,  and 
the  surest  road  to  premature  age.  You  will  grow  old  before 
your  time,  little  one." 

"  This  is  not  curiosity!  "  interrupted  Cara.  "  There  is 
some  kind  of  trouble  here,  I  know  not  what  it  is;  but  some- 
thing so  unpleasant  and — dreadful.  Sometimes  it  seems  to 
me  that  someone  will  die,  or  that  something  will  vanish,  and 
that,  in  general,  something  awfully  bad  will  happen  to  some- 
body— I — know  not  what  it  is,  but  it  is  very  bad.  I  know 
not  what  it  is,  but  it  is  something — it  is  something " 

Maryan  frowned  and  interrupted  her: 

"  Since  you  know  not  what  it  is,  nor  to  whom  it  will  hap- 
pen, nor  how,  what  do  you  ask  me  for?  Am  I  a  master  of 
the  cabala,  to  interpret  childish  dreams  for  you  ?  " 

"  This  is  not  a  dream;  it  is  something  of  the  sort  that 
wanders  in  the  air,  touches,  breathes,  goes  away  and  comes 

184 


The  Argonauts 

again,  like  a  haze — or  the  wind.  You  are  grown  np,  and  all 
say  that  you  are  clever.  I  beg  you  to  explain  this — I  think, 
too,  that,  if  you  wished,  you  might  so  arrange  matters  that 
all  would  go  better.  It  is  your  duty  to  do  this.  Do  you 
not  love  mamma,  father,  Ira?  I  love  them  immensely — I 
would  give  up  everything  for  them.  I  do  not  understand 
even  how  any  person  could  live  without  loving  somebody 
with  full  heart,  and  all  strength — I  could  not.  But  what  use 
— I  am  not  grown  up,  not  wise,  I  cannot  even  understand 
anything.  "With  you  it  is  different,  but  you  have  quarrelled 
with  father.  You  do  not  even  love  him,  I  see  that  well. 
For  what  reason?  Why?  My  brother,  you  might,  at  least, 
tell  me  something  to  explain." 

She  stopped,  and  he  stared  at  her,  a  look  of  indecision 
increased  on  his  face.  Something  of  concern,  and  a  trifle 
of  tenderness  gleamed  in  his  eyes.  It  might  have  seemed 
for  some  seconds  that  he  would  put  his  arm  around  her,  or 
stroke  her  with  his  palm  and  smooth  away  the  wrinkles 
from  her  childish  forehead.  But — "  Arcadian  "  feelings 
were  in  the  past,  so  he  began  to  speak  coldly  and  delib- 
erately : 

"  My  dear,  you  are  torturing  your  little  head  for  nothing 
with  affairs  of  this  world;  you  are  not  equal  to  them  yet. 
I  cannot  tell  anything  to  you,  or  explain  anything,  for  you 
and  I  are  at  the  two  opposite  poles  of  thought.  You  speak 
of  devotion,  duty,  and  love,  like  a  governess,  for  you  have 
a  governess  yet.  As  to  my  disagreement  with  father,  you 
know  nothing  of  what  caused  it;  but,  to  be  a  kindly 
brother,  I  will  answer  a  few  words.  Two  developed  and 
energetic  individualities  have  met  in  this  case  and  come 
into  collision,  like  two  planets.  Two  egotisms  also — do 
not  show  such  frightened  eyes.  Stupid  nurses  frighten 
children  with  a  beggar,  a  gypsy,  or  an  egotist,  but  mature 

185 


The  Argonauts 

people  know  that  egotism  is  a  universal  right;  and,  more- 
over, good  business.  Be  an  egotist.  Take  no  trouble 
about  what  does  not  concern  your  own  self  and  strive  to 
develop  your  own  individuality.  Keep  this  in  view,  play 
joyously  with  Puffie,  and  go  to  sleep  early,  for  long  watch- 
ing spoils  the  complexion  of  young  ladies.  Begin  to  think 
to-morrow  of  the  dress  which  you  will  wear  at  that  brill- 
iant ball — planned  by  our  father  to  torment  mamma — and 
you  will  have  success.  Do  not  mind  those  mists,  dreams, 
and  other  visions  which  come  and  go.  They  are  condi- 
tions of  mind  which  are  very  much  subject  to  fancy,  and 
other  painted  pots.  This  is  all  that  I,  your  great-grand- 
father, can  tell  you,  or  mention  as  advice.  Look  at  Ira 
and  imitate  her  wisdom,  which  knows  how  to  make  sport 
of  the  world  around  her.    Good-night  to  you,  little  one !  ^' 

He  pressed  her  hand  in  such  a  friendly  manner  that  he 
hurt  it,  and  then  went  away,  disappearing  at  the  other  end 
of  the  chamber. 

Cara  stood  for  a  time  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor,  then 
she  raised  her  head  and  looked  around  at  the  void  in  which 
silence  had  fixed  itself.  The  globe-lamps  burning,  here  and 
there,  at  the  walls,  filled  the  drawing-room  with  a  hazy, 
half-light,  in  which,  here  and  there,  glittered  golden  re- 
flections, and  the  features  of  faces,  and  landscapes  flim- 
mered  on  pictures.  Farther  on,  from  the  shady  corner  of 
the  other  drawing-room,  slender  and  swelling  vases  ap- 
peared, partially;  portions  of  white  garlands  on  the  walls; 
the  delicate  dimness  of  dulled  colors  on  Gobelin  tapestry. 
Farther  still,  in  the  small  warm  and  bright  drawing-room, 
lights  were  burning  in  the  candelabra,  and  a  crown  of  glit- 
tering crystals  were  hanging  like  icicles,  or  immense 
frozen  tears.  Farthest  off,  in  the  dining-room,  with  its 
dark  walls,  gleamed  a  great  lamp,  in  its  hanging  bronze^ 

186 


The  Argonauts 

like  a  point  of  light,  above  the  table.  This  point  seemed 
very  far  from  where  Cara  was  standing,  and  in  all  the 
space  between  her  and  it  there  was  not  a  voice,  not  a 
rustle,  nothing  living.  Only  once  a  waiter,  dressed  in 
black,  passed  on  tip-toe  through  the  dining-room,  emerged 
into  the  full  light  of  the  lamp,  and  disappeared  behind  a 
door.  After  that  there  was  no  voice,  no  step,  no  noise — 
nothing  hving.  All  at  once  a  clock  began  to  strike  nine. 
Its  metallic  sound  inclined  to  bass,  and  was  heard  clearly 
in  the  silence  which  had  settled  in  the  vacant  chambers. 
One,  two,  three — at  the  fourth  stroke  another  clock  was 
heard  in  a  distant  study.  Its  sound  was  thinner  and  more 
like  singing — these  two  seemed  to  be  a  voice  and  its  echo ; 
the  sounds  from  these  resembled  a  mysterious  conversa- 
tion carried  on  by  things  that  were  inanimate. 

Cara  hurried  then,  and  hastened  through  the  drawing- 
rooms  on  tip-toe  toward  her  mother's  boudoir.  Through 
her  widely  opened  eyes  looked  fear,  and  under  bright  curls 
her  forehead  was  thickly  wrinkled. 


187 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Because  of  his  absence  of  ten  days  Darvid,  on  his  return 
from  the  hunting  scenes,  which  had  passed  noisily  and 
splendidly  at  Prince  Zeno's,  rushed  into  the  whirl  of  busi- 
ness— of  labors  and  visits  which  even  for  him,  who  was  so 
greatly  trained,  proved  to  be  wearisome  and  difficult.  He 
drove  out;  he  received  for  long  hours,  both  alone  and  with 
the  assistance  of  others;  he  wrote,  reckoned,  counselled,  dis- 
cussed, concluded  contracts,  with  a  multitude  of  men. 
Sometimes,  in  the  very  short  intervals  between  occupations, 
in  his  carriage,  after  a  noisy  and  laborious  night,  or  at  the 
almost  sleepless  end  of  it,  while  putting  himself  to  bed,  he 
thought,  that  in  every  case  the  amusement  from  which  he 
had  returned  a  few  days  before  had  cost  him  more  than  the 
worth  of  it.  His  life  was  a  belt  of  toil  and  duties,  so  closely 
woven  that  every  interruption  brought  to  a  new  point  an 
accumulation  of  these  toils  and  duties  that  might  surpass 
even  his  powers.  And  what  had  his  object  been?  Why 
had  he  gone?  Had  he  found  pleasure  in  that  place?  What 
pleasure  ?  Those  full-grown,  or  even  old  men,  who  found 
their  delight,  or  disappointment  in  this,  that  they  had  hit 
or  had  missed  a  shot;  those  great  lords,  spending  their  time 
at  a  recreation  which,  by  the  uproar,  the  style  of  conversa- 
tion, the  spectacle  of  bloodshed,  reminded  him  of  the  mental 
and  physical  condition  of  wild  men — seemed  to  him  chil- 
dren which  were  sometimes  annoying  and  sometimes  ridicu- 
lous. Such  frivolous  amusement,  idle,  somewhat  savage, 
somewhat  knightly,  found  no  access  to  his  brain,  which  had 

188 


The  Argonauts 

been  occupied  so  long  with  the  seriousness  of  dates  and 
figures.  He  had  met  there,  it  is  true,  though  only  once,  a 
man  in  a  lyric  mood.  A  youthful  person,  who  was  riding 
one  day  at  his  side,  and  who  afterward,  when  they  halted, 
strove  to  incline  him  to  enthusiasm  because  of  the  snow- 
covered  field;  the  fresh  breezes  blowing  over  that  field;  the 
deep  perspective  of  the  forest,  etc.  That  man  was  lyric.  He 
confessed  openly  that  the  hunting  was  to  him  indifferent^ 
that  he  took  part  in  it  not  for  game,  but  for  nature.  He 
loved  nature.  Yes,  yes,  Darvid  knew  that  many  people 
loved  nature.  Art  and  nature  must  be  powers,  since  a  multi- 
tude of  men  bow  down  to  them.  Perhaps  he,  too,  would 
have  done  so  if  the  career  of  his  life  had  led  him  into  their 
presence,  but  the  path  of  his  life  led  him  in  another  direc- 
tion, far  from  nature  and  art,  hence  he  did  not  know  them; 
he  had  not  had  the  time.  He  looked  at  a  field,  at  snow,  at 
a  forest — and  he  saw  a  field,  snow,  a  forest — nothing  higher. 
nothing  more.  He  was  of  those  who  call  a  cat  a  cat,  a 
rogue  a  rogue,  and  hold  every  h3^perbole,  ode,  and  enthu- 
siasm in  silent  contempt.  He  listened  to  his  lyric  com- 
panion, at  first  with  curiosity,  investigating  in  the  man  a 
certain  kind  of  people  little  known  to  him.  When  he  had 
finished  he  listened  only  through  politeness,  and  with  con- 
cealed annoyance.  He  concealed  his  annoyance,  and  tried 
openly  to  pretend  that  he  shared  the  enthusiasm,  the  rapture, 
and  the  gladness.  He  was,  of  course,  in  an  assembly  of  very 
wealthy  persons,  standing  very  high.  He  sailed  in  a  sea  of 
blood  purely  blue,  so  he  hid  away  irony,  contempt,  and 
yawning,  and  had  on  the  outside  only  smoothness  itself,  af- 
fability, and  general  pleasantness  of  manner,  speech,  and 
smiles.  That  was  also  a  labor,  rewarded  at  once  with  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  lively  enjoyment.  In  lordly  drawing-rooms, 
himself  the  equal  of  the  highest,  while  passing  the  time 

189 


The  Argonauts 

in  a  friendl}'  manner  and  conversing  with  princes  he  was 
unconscious  at  first  that  he  raised  his  smooth,  lofty  fore- 
head and  gave  himself  out  as  greater  than  he  was  in  real- 
ity, and  inhaled  with  distended  nostrils  the  odor  of  that 
grandeur  which  surrounded  him  as  well  as  that  which  was 
his  own.  But  soon  this  condition  yielded  to  something 
embarrassing,  not  quite  clearly  defined,  but  causing  this, 
that  he  did  not  feel  altogether  certain  of  himself  and  the 
fitness  of  his  whole  self  to  the  surrounding.  For  though 
the  politeness  of  those  about  him  was  unquestioned  and 
most  exquisite,  though  words  of  praise  in  recognition  of 
his  services  and  labor  struck  his  hearing,  though  his 
strong  feet  had  under  them  a  foundation  carved  from 
gold;  he  felt  strange  in  that  position,  involved  in  phe- 
nomena which  were  new  to  him,  and  bristling  with  diffi- 
culties. Sometimes  the  guests  mentioned  things  of  which 
he  was  ignorant,  they  used  expressions  which  were  strange 
to  him,  and  referred  to  degrees  of  relationship,  and  events 
with  which  he  was  unacquainted.  He  began  to  stand 
guard  over  his  own  words  and  movements,  with  a  mysteri- 
ous fear  lest  something  of  his  might  come  out  too  em- 
phatic, or  high  colored  for  the  background  before  which 
he  found  himself.  In  spite  of  everything  which  connected 
the  man  with  that  background,  he  began  to  feel  a  broad 
vacuum  between  him  and  it  himself. 

This  timidity,  a  thing  entirely  new,  entirely  unknown  to 
Darvid  from  his  earliest  years,  was  an  oppression  which, 
during  the  last  days  of  the  hunt,  fell  on  him  together  with 
weariness,  and  some  third  thing — a  feeling  of  the  differ- 
ence between  himself  and  those  who  surrounded  him. 
Nothing  could  help  him:  neither  the  iron  labor  which 
they  praised  audibly,  nor  the  millions  piled  up  by  that 
labor — millions  for  which  they  felt  unconcealed  rever- 

190 


The  Argonauts 

ence.  Among  those  men  into  whose  society  he  had  al- 
ways desired  to  enter  as  an  integral  part  thereof,  on  that 
social  height  to  which  he  had  been  climbing  in  imagina- 
tion and  with  effort,  he  felt  as  if  he  were  in  some  un- 
easy chair,  put  out  in  a  cold  wind,  and  deprived  of  every 
outlook.  He  found  nothing  there  on  which  to  rest  his 
eye,  or  his  thought.  Emptiness,  emptiness,  weariness. 
A  little  humiliation  which,  like  a  tiny,  but  venomous 
worm,  was  boring  into  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  It  was  not 
wonderful,  therefore,  that  when  he  thought  of  how  he  had 
used  his  time,  and  of  all  that  he  had  seen,  heard,  and 
passed  through,  there  was  on  his  lips  one  of  those  smiles 
most  bristling  with  pins  points,  while  in  his  mind  he 
repeated  the  expression :   "  Wretchedness !  " 

He  was  too  wise  not  to  give  this  name  at  times  to  many 
things  of  the  world  which  he  desired  and  toward  which  he 
was  struggling. 

After  some  days  of  labor,  so  intense  that  it  astonished 
those  who  saw  it,  and  which  weakened  those  who  assisted 
in  it,  he  received  at  an  hour  before  evening,  as  customary, 
in  his  study,  all  men  who  came  either  on  business,  or  with 
visits.  He  knew  no  exceptions  for  anyone,  nor  indulgence 
for  himself.  He  received  all,  conversed  with  all,  for  it  was 
impossible  to  foresee  what  a  given  man  might  contribute, 
or  what  he  might  be  good  for,  if  not  at  the  moment,  some 
time,  if  not  much,  then  a  little.  But  his  cheeks  seemed 
thinner  than  usual,  and  at  moments  his  speech  was  less 
fluent.  That  hunting  trip,  and  all  which  he  had  experi- 
enced at  it,  and  afterward,  days  of  activity  and  unparal- 
leled exertion,  were  reflected  on  his  face  in  an  expression 
of  suffering.  And  sometimes  even  a  slight  hesitation  in 
speech  arose  from  this,  that  his  mind  ran  to  a  subject 
which  tortured  him,  and  raised  in  his  breast  a  lump  of 

191 


The  Argonauts 

slimy  serpents.  Some  hours  before  he  had  inquired  of 
his  seeretar}^,  who,  in  spite  of  youth,  zeal,  and  wit,  was 
bending  beneath  the  burden  of  labor  imposed  on  him, 
whether  everything  was  ready  for  the  ball  to  be  given 
soon,  and  whether  he  had  received  directions  from  the 
lady  of  the  house  during  his,  Darvid's,  recent  absence. 
The  secretary  showed  great  astonishment.  How  was 
that?  Then  the  project  had  not  been  abandoned?  On 
the  morning  after  the  departure  of  his  principal  the  secre- 
tary sought  to  come  to  an  understanding  with  Pani  Darvid 
on  this  subject,  but  was  able  to  see  only  Panna  Irene,  who 
declared  that  he  would  receive  no  instructions,  and  that 
his  assistance  would  not  be  needed.  After  that  there  was 
silence  in  the  house,  undisturbed  by  preparations  of  any 
kind. 

"  Then,"  said  Darvid,  "  my  wife  must  be  out  of  health. 
She  has  neuralgia  frequently.  What  is  to  be  done?  A 
woman's  nerves  are  a  force  majeure." 

But  now,  while  receiving  visits  and  speaking  of  business, 
he  avoided  thinking  of  the  unexpected  resistance.  How 
was  this!  She — the  woman  for  whom  the  highest  favor, 
the  pinnacle  of  happiness  had  been  the  possibility  of  re- 
maining at  the  head  of  his  house,  in  the  brilliancy  of  wealth 
and  general  respect,  dared — had  the  shamelessness  to  oppose 
his  will!  He  felt  such  contempt  that,  in  thought,  he  threw 
that  woman  on  the  ground  to  trample  her;  in  spite  of  this, 
that,  almost  unconsciously,  he  ascribed  the  blame  not  to  her, 
but  to  Irene.  Almost  unconsciously  he  saw  the  tall  young 
lady;  she  stood  before  his  eyes,  cold  and  distinguished; 
she,  who  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway,  in  the  down  of  her 
black  fur  cloak,  with  an  almost  hard  glitter  in  her  eyes, 
under  the  fantastic  hat,  had  said :  "  That  ball  will  not  be 
given." 

192 


The  Argonauts 

That  was  Irene.  The  other  woman  could  not  have  risen 
to  this  act.  Did  he  not  know  her?  She  had  always  been  so 
mild  and  weak — powerless,  pitiable!  She  could  not  com- 
mand such  energy!    It  was  Irene! 

With  these  thoughts  he  pressed  the  hand  of  the  last  guest, 
and  said  to  him  at  the  threshold,  that  there  was  absolute 
need  for  the  commercial  company  of  which  they  had  been 
talking  to  gain  a  broader  foundation  of  activity  by  obtain- 
ing more  and  surer  sources  of  credit. 

"  Credit,  my  dear  sir,  credit  is  the  first  letter  in  the  alpha- 
bet of  contemporary  finance.  Send  some  man  to  the  capital 
— some  man " 

He  hesitated  here,  thinking  "It  was  Irene! "  Then  he 
finished: 

"  Some  man  with  proper  authority  and  weight — best  of 
all  that  person  of  whom  we  have  been  speaking.  Such  is  my 
advice." 

After  the  last  bow  of  the  guest  they  closed  the  door  of 
the  anteroom.  Darvid  turned  and  saw  Irene  standing  at 
the  round  table.  That  day,  while  passing  on  the  stairs, 
when  she  was  returning  from  a  trip  to  the  city,  and  he  was 
hastening  to  the  carriage  waiting  for  him,  they  had  greeted 
each  other  hurriedly  and  in  passing.  He  had  not  a  mo- 
ment's time  then  to  talk  with  her;  she,  too,  was  in  a  hurry, 
for  she  ran  up  the  stairs  quickly. 

"  Bon  jour,  pere ! "  said  she,  inclining  her  head  with 
swift  movement. 

"  Bon  jour,  Irene,"  answered  he,  touching  his  hat.  Iie- 
hind  him  moved  the  secretary,  carrying  a  heavy  portfolio  of 
papers;  after  her  went  some  merchant's  servant  with  pack- 
ages. No  greeting  was  necessary  now.  Irene,  standing  at 
the  tal)]o,  began  to  speak  at  once: 

"  I  have  come,  father,  to  bog  you  in  mamma's  name  and 
1<J3 


The  Argonauts 

my  own  for  a  half-an-hoiir's  conversation,  but  to-day,  now, 
absolutely." 

Her  bodice,  which  was  dark  and  close  fitting,  had  a  very 
high-standing  rufp,  which  enclosed  her  slightly  elongated 
and  very  pale  face,  just  as  the  half-open  shield  of  a  leaf  en- 
closes a  white  flower-bud.  Her  whole  person,  in  that  cham- 
ber, with  its  very  high  ceiling  and  massive  furniture,  seemed 
smaller  and  less  tall  than  elsewhere.  However,  the  words 
"  now  and  absolutely "  were  spoken  with  such  solid  em- 
phasis, that  Darvid  halted  in  the  middle  of  the  room  and 
fixed  a  sharp  glance  on  her. 

"  You  have  come  in  your  mother's  name  and  your  own," 
said  he.  "  Why  this  solemnity  and  decision?  You  wish,  of 
course,  to  explain  the  reasons  why  your  mother  and  you  have 
seen  fit  to  oppose  my  will." 

"  No,  father,"  answered  she,  "  but  I  intend  to  announce 
to  you  mamma's  will  and  mine.'^ 

"  As  to  that  ball?  "  asked  he,  quickly. 

"No,  the  question  is  immensely  more  important  than 
the  ball." 

Both  were  silent  for  a  moment.  If  the  words  exchanged 
had  been  less  emphatic,  and  had  followed  one  another  less 
quickly,  Darvid  and  his  daughter  might,  perhaps,  have 
heard,  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  behind  a  wall  of  books  ar- 
ranged on  highly  ornamented  shelves,  a  slight  rustle  which 
lasted  a  short  time.  Something  had  moved  there,  and  then 
stopped  moving. 

"  It  touches  an  affair  of  immensely  greater  importance 
than  the  ball,"  repeated  Irene;  "  namely,  my  mother's 
peace,  honor,  and  conscience." 

"  What  pomposity  of  expression! "  exclaimed  Darvid, 
with  a  slight  smile.  "  I  observe  more  and  more  that  exag- 
geration is  a  disease  in  my  family.  I  should  prefer  simple 
speech  from  you." 

194 


The  Argonauts 

"  The  question  before  us  is  not  a  simple  one,  so  I  use  a 
style  fitted  to  the  subject,"  answered  Irene,  and  she  sat  down 
in  one  of  the  armchairs,  erect,  her  hands  on  her  knees,  mo- 
tionless, between  the  wide  and  heavy  arms  of  the  chair. 

"  The  subject  of  which  I  have  to  speak  w^ith  you,  father,  is 
much  involved  and  delicate.  Do  you  not  share  my  opiur 
ion,  that  one  may  commit  what  is  commonly  called  an, 
offence  and  still  possess  a  noble  heart,  and  suffer  greatly  ? 
In  common  opinion  this  suffering  is  a  just  punishment,  or 
penance  for  the  offence  committed,  but  I  consider  this 
opinion  as  a  painted  pot,  for  everything  in  this  world  is  so 
involved,  so  vain,  and  relative." 

She  spoke  with  perfect  calmness,  but  at  the  last  words  she 
shrugged  her  shoulders  slightly.  Darvid  looked  at  her  with 
dazed  eyes. 

"  How  is  this?  "  began  he,  in  a  low  voice.  "  You — you — 
have  you  come  to  talk  to  me — about  this?  Do  you  know? 
Do  you  understand?  And  have  you  come  to  talk  about — 
this?" 

"  My  father,"  answered  Irene,  "  to  bring  our  conversation 
to  any  result  we  must  first  of  all  push  away  painted  pots 
from  between  us." 

"■  What  does  that  mean?  "  asked  Darvid. 

"  What  does  it  mean?  What  are  painted  pots?  They  are 
little  dabs  of  wretched  clay,  but  painted  in  beautiful  colors; 
they  are  just  what  naivete,  bashfulness,  modesty,  and 
darned  socks  like  them  would  be  to-day  in  my  case." 

She  laughed. 

"  I  have  known  all  that  has  happened  this  long  time.  I 
was  a  little  girl,  in  a  corner  of  a  room,  dressing  a  doll,  when 
a  certain  conversation  between  you  and  mamma  struck  my 
ears,  and  helped  me  considerably  to  understand  what  took 
place  afterward.    Because  of  business  and  difficulties  which 

195 


The  Argonauts 

swallowed  your  time  you  were  ever  absent,  father.  Oh, 
I  have  no  thought  of  criticising  you,  no  thought  whatever. 
Here  a  question  of  logic  presents  itself,  simple  logic.  You 
were  chasing  after  that  which  was  your  happiness,  the  de- 
light of  your  life,  while  mamma — poor  mamma  stooped  to 
pick  up  also  for  herself  a  little  happiness  and  delight.  But 
your  happiness  and  delight  were  open,  brilliant,  triumphant, 
while  mamma's  were  always  full  of  darkness,  poison,  and 
shame." 

For  the  first  time  in  that  conversation  her  voice  quivered; 
and,  inclining  her  face,  she  brushed  away  from  her  dress, 
with  the  rosy  tips  of  her  fingers,  some  bit  of  dust  that  had 
dropped  on  it;  then  again  she  gazed  with  a  look  clear  and 
calm  at  her  father,  who  had  sat  down  in  front  of  her. 

"  To  convince  you,  father,"  continued  she,  "  that  our  con- 
versation has  a  perfectly  important  and  definite  meaning  I 
permit  myself  to  open  before  you  the  secret,  but  for  me,  the 
visible  springs  which  caused  the  so-called  offence,  and  pres- 
ent disposition  of  mamma." 

"It  would  be  better  to  avoid  this  and  proceed  to  the 
point  directly,"  said  Darvid,  throwing  his  eyeglasses  on  his 
nose  with  a  nervous  movement. 

*'  No,  father,  permit  me  to  take  a  few  minutes  of  time,  I 
beg  you.  This  is  necessary.  Every  man  has  in  himself 
a  soul,  so-called,  personal  to  him,  unlike  others." 

She  halted  for  a  moment,  shrugged  her  shoulders: 

"  For  that  matter,  am  I  sure  of  this  ?  The  soul  may  be  a 
painted  pot  also.  But  it  is  the  usual  name  given  to  our  vari- 
ous feelings  and  inclinations.  So  pour  h  commodite  de  la 
conversation,  I  shall  use  this  word."  She  smiled  and  con- 
tinued: "There  are  various  souls,  some  as  hard  as  steel, 
others  soft  as  wax,  some  inaccessible  to  sentiment,  others 
sentimental.    Mamma's  soul  is  soft  and  sentimental.    Ten- 

196 


The  Argonauts 

derness,  care,  confidence  are  as  needful  to  her  as  air  is  to 
breathing.  Do  I  know,  for  that  matter,  the  various  ingredi- 
ents which  make  up  the  so-called  love,  attachment,  etc. 
You,  father,  have  a  soul  of  steel  and  immensely  great  busi- 
ness power — we  were  children — Cara  had  barely  begun  to 
speak  then.  Well,  a  moment  came — do  I  know  when?  I 
do  not  know — but — finally  that  happened  which  must  have 
happened  more  than  once  to  you  in  your  very  numerous,  re- 
mote, and  prolonged  journeys.    Do  I  not  speak  the  truth  ?  " 

In  the  high  plates  of  her  dark  ruff  her  face  was  in  a  blush, 
but  she  smiled  a  little,  and  with  strangely  flashing  eyes 
looked  directly  into  the  face  of  her  father. 

"  For,"  added  she,  "  one  would  need  to  have  mental  rheu- 
matism to  believe  that  you  loved  only  mamma  all  the  time, 
and  even  that  you  loved  her  in  general — mamma,  of  course, 
did  not  think  that  you  did." 

"  Irene!  "  cried  Darvid. 

But  she  did  not  permit  interruption. 

"  Allow  me,  I  beg  you,  to  say  that  I  am  not  criticising. 
I  am  not  in  any  sense.  There  is  not  a  shade  of  criticism 
in  what  I  say.  I  only  state  and  expose  facts  and  causes. 
That  is  all.  This  is  requisite.  Without  this  it  would  be 
impossible  to  understand  mamma's  request  and  mine 
which  I  will  tell  you  quickly.  And  now  I  return  to  the 
question  of  the  individual  soul.  That  is  a  thing  of  capital 
importance.  Offences,  so-called,  rise  from  so-called  mean 
souls,  or  from  noble  ones.  Of  the  first  I  know  little,  but 
if  an  offence  comes  from  a  noble  soul  it  is  to  that  soul 
a  great  and  terrible  torment — I  have  looked  at  such  a 
torment,  and  while  looking  at  it  I  have  been  brought  to 
name  the  so-called  love,  and  tlie  so-called  happiness, 
painted  pots.  Idyls !  There  may  be  idyls  somewhere,  but 
that  which  I  saw — I  assure  you,  father,  did  not  encourage 

197 


The  Argonauts 

— did  not  encourage  me  to  look  at  things  from  the  idyllic 
angle." 

Darvid  rose  with  an  impulsive  movement. 

"To  the  question,  Irene,  to  the  question!  Say  what  the 
request  is  for  which  you  have  come.  And  from  what  does 
your  mother  suffer  so  greatly  ?  It  would  be  better  were 
you  to  tell  your  wish  at  once,  and  without  these  intro- 
ductions. Do  reproaches  of  conscience  trouble  your 
mother?  I  have  no  time  for  psychological  analysis,  and 
should  like  to  finish  this  conversation  more  quickly. 
Well,  was  it  that  besides  conscience  and  other  things  like 
it — she  did  not  find  in  her  lover  the  man  whom  her  senti- 
ment imagined?  I  am  ashamed  to  speak  with  you  of 
this.    Tell  quickly  what  your  wish  is." 

With  a  trembling  hand  he  approached  the  end  of  hia 
cigarette  to  the  candle  burning  on  the  desk;  his  face  now 
grown  smaller,  was  contracted  from  the  wrinkles  which  cov- 
ered his  forehead,  and  the  countless  quivers  which  passed 
across  his  face.  Irene,  very  pale  now,  followed  her  father 
with  her  eyes;  her  lips  were  almost  blue. 

"  Yes,  father,"  answered  she,  "  in  mamma's  soul  that 
which  we  call  conscience  is  greatly  developed.  Moreover,  a 
feeling  of  shame  in  presence  of  us,  and  humiliation  that 
everything  which  she  has  comes  from  you." 

At  this  moment  something  rustled  again,  somewhere  in  a 
corner,  but  no  one  turned  attention  to  it. 

Darvid,  who  passed  through  the  room  a  number  of  times, 
hastily,  stopped  again: 

"  Speak  more  quickly,"  said  he,  "  I  cannot  understand 
what  it  is  that  your  mother  wishes.  I  left  her  in  the  position 
of  a  respected  wife,  of  a  mother,  and  mistress  of  a  house. 
She  is  surrounded  with  luxury,  she  shines  in  society,  and 
enjoys  life." 

198 


The  Argonauts 

Irene  opened  her  arms  with  a  movement  indicating 
pity: 

"  This  which  you  consider  as  the  highest  favor  for  mamma 
is  Just  what  she  does  not  wish.  She  does  not  wish  to  enjoy 
the  respect  of  society,  which  slie  does  not  deserve,  as  she 
thinks;  nor  to  make  use  of  the  luxury  which  comes  from 
you,  and  which  is  bound  up  with  speechless  contempt. 
Mamma  desires  to  leave  this  house;  in  general,  to  aban- 
don society-life,  with  all  its  luxury  and  brilliancy.  I  have 
known  for  a  considerable  time  of  this,  and  therefore  had 
the  plan  of  marrying  soon  and  withdrawing  from  here 
with  mamma." 

Darvid  put  an  end  to  his  emotion;  his  daughter's  words 
approached  facts,  and  facts  demanded  cool  blood. 

"  If  you  wish  to  speak  of  your  intention  to  marry  the 
baron,  I  must  tell  you " 

"  You  have  no  need  to  speak  of  that,  father.  I  have 
abandoned  that  intention.  I  had  it,  but  I  have  dropped  it. 
Another  plan  entirely  different  has  taken  its  place.  You 
own  a  village  in  a  remote  province  which  came  to  you  from 
your  parents.  I  wish  to  ask  you  to  give  me  that  village,  to 
endow  me  with  it,  but  immediately.  I  suppose,  I  know, 
even,  that  it  was  your  intention  to  give  me  a  dowry  ten 
times  as  valuable.  Now,  I  am  ready  to  renounce  nine- 
tenths,  orally,  in  writing,  in  every  form  and  every  manner 
indicated  by  you,  but  I  beg  you,  as  a  favor,  I  beg  you  ear- 
nestly, for  this  one-tenth,  and  beg  that  I  may  receive  it  with- 
out delay." 

She  bent  her  whole  form  low,  and  her  eyes,  which  she 
raised  to  her  father,  were  filled  witli  tears;  these,  however, 
she  restrained  immediately.  Darvid  answered  after  a  mo- 
ment of  silence: 

"  Though  I  do  not  understand  this  whim  of  yours,  I  do 
199 


The  Argonauts 

not  see  in  it  anything  impossible,  or  harmful.  On  the  con- 
trary, I  shall  be  glad  to  do  something  which  pleases  you, 
and  to-morrow,  if  you  like,  you  shall  be  the  owner  of  that 
wretched  hole.    But  of  what  use  can  it  be  to  you?  " 

Irene  rose,  went  around  the  table,  and,  bending,  pressed 
her  father's  hand  to  her  lips;  and  then  she  returned  to  her 
former  place: 

"  I  thank  you,  father,"  said  she;  "  you  satisfy  my  most 
ardent  desire.  That  '  wretched  hole,'  as  you  call  it,  is  just 
the  place  that  mamma  desires.  We  shall  go  from  here,  and 
settle  down  there  as  quickly  as  possible." 

"What?"  cried  Darvid,  bending  forward  with  astonish- 
ment, but  soon  he  began  to  speak  calmly: 

"I  come  to  the  conclusion  that  when  talking  with  my 
children  I  should  not  be  astonished  at  anything.  I  must 
be  ready  for  any  surprise." 

"  That  is  natural,  father,  for  we  hardly  know  each  other," 
interrupted  Irene.  "  In  reproaches  of  conscience,"  con- 
tinued she,  "  and  various  other  feelings  of  that  sort,  mamma 
goes  to  exaggeration,  she  goes  so  far  as  to  desire  penance, 
punishment,  voluntarily  accepted.  If  time  and  circum- 
stances were  favorable  she  would  enter  a  cloister  assuredly, 
and  put  on  a  hair  shirt.  That  is  an  exaggeration,  but  what 
is  to  be  done?  Characters  are  various;  hers  is  of  that  kind. 
But  the  desire  which  mamma  has  of  withdrawing  from  the 
noise  and  show  of  the  world,  I  understand  perfectly;  for, 
first  of  all " 

She  made  a  gesture  of  contempt  with  her  hand. 

"  All  the  honors,  the  glitter,  the  luxury,  etc.,  are  gates 
'  before  which  men  with  spades  are  standing; '  this  means 
that  behind  them  we  find  dust,  emptiness,  nothing." 

"  Great  God!  "  exclaimed  Darvid. 

"  What  do  you  say,  father?  "  inquired  she. 

200 


The  Argonauts 

''  Your  age,  the  brilliant  position  in  which  yon  have  lived 
since  childhood — and  this  disenchantment." 

"  Just  this  brilliant  position,  father — Just  because  of  this 
brilliant  position,  perhaps.  We  are  not  talking  of  me,  how- 
ever— but  because  of  this,  which  in  me  you  call  disenchant- 
ment, I  am  able  to  understand  mamma's  wish  to  leave  society, 
all  the  more  because,  if  I  were  in  her  position,  all  homage, 
show,  luxury,  amusements  would  for  me  be  as  impossible  as 
they  are  for  her.  This  depends  on  character.  Moreover, 
mamma  remembers  that  everything  which  she  uses  is  yours, 
and  the  use  of  it  attended  by  your  contempt,  and  the  evident 
impossibility  of  ever  coming  to  any  understanding  is  such 
a  poison — so  I  beg  you  to  give  me  Krynichna.  I  am  your 
daughter,  and,  as  it  seems  to  me,  you  have  no  thought  of 
disinheriting  me,  so  if  I  own  Kryniclma,  mamma  will  live 
with  me  and  receive  everything  from  me  alone." 

Her  voice  grew  weaker,  and  her  posture  less  constrained, 
in  her  whole  form  there  was  an  expression  of  suffering. 
Everything  which  she  said  cost  her,  in  spite  of  appearances 
to  the  contrary,  much  effort  and  suffering.  Darvid  was  si- 
lent a  while,  then  he  said: 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  I  am  Ali  Baba,  listening  to  the  tales 
of  Shoherazade.  If  I  should  agree  to  your  plan  what  would 
you  do  there?" 

"  I  do  not  know  clearly  as  yet.  This  is  mamma's  idea; 
her  wish;  she  will  discover  more  and  tell  me.  We  will  ex- 
amine; we  shall  see.  Into  mamma's  plans,  besides  quiet 
obscurity,  and  modesty  of  life,  laljor  enters  also." 

She  spoke  in  a  low,  wearied  voice: 

"  An  idyl!  "  laughed  Darvid. 

"An  idyl,  father;  I  used  to  laugh  at  all  idyls  without 
knowing  that  I  had  one  in  myself.  It  lias  saved  me  from 
many,  and,  perhaps,  dreadful  things.  Yes,  I  have  an  idyl : 
I  love  mamma." 

201 


The  Argonauts 

Then  her  thin  lips,  famous  in  society  for  their  precocious, 
bitter  irony,  quivered  as  do  those  of  children  when  pre- 
paring to  cry. 

Darvid  turned  to  her  quickly,  and  said  with  a  prolonged 
hiss: 

"Why?" 

She  raised  sad  eyes  to  him,  and  with  a  voice  in  which  Mal- 
vina's  sweet  tones  were  heard,  she  answered: 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  anyone  could  tell  why  he  or  she  loves. 
Mamma  has  always  been  kind — but  I  do  not  know — she  is 
very  pleasant,  and  she  and  I  have  been  together  always — I 
do  not  know — it  may  be,  besides,  that  often  I  have  seen  her 
so  unhappy.  You  see,  father,  that  I  am  sincere;  I  answer 
all  your  questions  as  far  as  I  am  able.  Have  regard  to 
mamma's  scruples,  I  beg,  and  my  request;  do  not  oppose 
our  plans." 

Darvid  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  he  raised  his 
head,  his  eyes  had  the  flash  of  steel. 

"  No,"  said  he.  "  My  daughter  shall  not  wither  away  in 
a  remote  corner  with  my  consent,  because  it  pleases  her 
mother  to  hide  her — shame  there." 

"  Father,"  answered  Irene,  "  I  must  explain  that  your  re- 
sistance will  only  give  a  more  permanent,  and,  for  you,  a 
more  disagreeable,  form  to  our  withdrawal." 

She  rose,  and  again  on  her  face,  surrounded  by  the  high 
ruff,  was  an  expression  of  resolve  and  energy.  A  moment 
before  she  was  full  of  emotion  and  pain,  now  with  the  need 
of  defence  she  found  energy. 

"  Do  you  suppose,  father,  that  you  can  understand  what 
happened,  forgive,  to  use  the  general  phrase,  and  restore 
your  esteem  and  friendship  to  mamma  ?  " 

With  a  form  as  rigid  as  iron,  and  with  an  evil  smile  on 
his  lips,  Darvid  answered  immediately: 

202 


The  Argonauts 

"  No.  I  am  very  sorry  that  I  cannot  play  a  comedy  of 
noble-mindedness,  for  this  is  perhaps  a  popular  comedy. 
But  that  of  which  you  speak  is  forever  and  altogether  im- 
possible." 

Irene  moved  her  head  affirmatively. 

"  Then  mamma  and  I  must  withdraw;  if  not  to  Kryn- 
ichna  to  some  remote  place  abroad — I  know  four  European 
languages  well,  I  know  how  to  paint,  and  I  know  a  few 
other  things.  Mamma  possesses  a  real  genius  in  several  rare 
accomplishments,  and  you  remember  well  her  beautiful 
music.  We  will  give  lessons,  and  do  something  else — I  know 
not  what — we  shall  find  means  of  existence.  But  I  beg  you, 
father,  to  believe  that  in  no  case  shall  we  remain  in  this 
house." 

With  pale,  almost  with  blue  lips,  she  laughed  and  added: 

"  Either  as  inhabitants  of  Krynichna,  or  making  our  own 
living  in  some  distant  place — which  do  you  prefer,  father? 
In  the  last  instance  it  depends  on  you.  One  of  these  two 
things  we  shall  do  most  certainly;  that  is,  properly  speak- 
ing, I  shall  do  it;  I,  who  am  mamma's  only  defence.  I  be- 
came of  age  some  months  ago.  I  have  finished  my  twenty- 
first  year,  and — no  one  can  hinder  me  from  acting  in 
this  way." 

Whoever  had  seen  her  at  that  moment  would  have  be- 
lieved, perforce,  that  no  man  and  no  thing  would  have 
power  to  hinder  her  in  carrying  out  her  resolve.  Omitting 
differences  of  age  and  sex,  she  seemed  the  living  portrait 
of  her  father.  The  same  cold  self-confidence  as  in  him;  the 
same  clear  penetrating  glance  as  of  steel;  the  same  enig- 
matical smile  on  impressionable  and  also  cold  lips.  As  if 
involuntarily,  and  lowering  her  voice,  she  said  in  addition: 

"  It  is  our  duty  to  put  a  radical  stop  to  the  family  idyl 
out  of  regard  also  to  Cara.     She  is  innocent  yet — she 

203 


The  Argonauts 

knows  nothing — she  loves  all,  and  not  only  loves  but 
worships.  Life  has  not  touched  her,  even  with  the  tip 
of  one  of  its  angel  feathers.  Just  imagine  what  would 
happen  if,  into  that  little  volcano  of  lofty  feeling,  a  spark 
of  this  knowledge  were  to  fall.  And  this  may  happen 
any  moment.  If  we  do  not  change  the  condition  of  af- 
fairs it  will  happen." 

She  was  silent,  and  Darvid  was  silent  also.  It  might  seem 
tliat  he  recognized  only  Irene's  last  argument  as  worthy  of 
attention.  The  two  voices  had  grown  silent,  one  after  the 
other;  then,  somewhere  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  was 
heard  a  rustle,  not  so  low  as  before,  far  stronger,  a  low  knock- 
ing rather  than  a  rustle,  and  almost  at  the  same  time  a  ser- 
vant in  the  open  door  of  the  antechamber  called: 

"  The  horses  are  ready." 

Irene,  who  had  turned  her  face  toward  the  rustle,  or 
knocking,  thought  some  of  the  countless  papers  in  the  room 
had  dropped  from  the  furniture,  or  that  some  book  had 
fallen.  Darvid,  who  also  had  heard  the  knocking,  or  rustle, 
forgot  it  while  looking  at  his  watch. 

"  I  shall  be  late,"  said  he.  "  You  have  told  me  things 
over  which  I  must  meditate.  I  cannot  deny  that  they  pos- 
sess considerable  importance.  Hence,  I  delay,  and  shall  beg 
you  soon  to  continue  this  conversation.  Good-night,  and 
perhaps  till  to-morrow." 

"  Let  it  be  only  till  to-morrow.  I  beg  you,  father.  To- 
morrow." 

Miss  Mary  was  sitting  in  her  pupil's  bedroom,  a  beautiful 
nest  which  wealth  had  formed  as  a  symbol  of  the  spring- 
time of  life.  From  the  top  of  the  walls  to  the  bottom, 
cretonne,  interchanged  with  muslin,  formed  succeeding  folds 
on  which  the  freshest  flowers  of  spring  seemed  to  have 
been  scattered.     The  walls,  the  windows,  the  furniture 

204 


The  Argonauts 

were  covered  with  a  shower  of  forget-me-nots  and  rose- 
buds, strewn  on  grounds  of  yellow  as  pale  as  if  sunlight 
had  penetrated  them  slightly.  Groups  of  green  plants 
at  the  windows  looked  like  little  groves  made  ready  foU 
the  songs  of  nightingales;  artistic  playthings,  porcelain 
figures,  suggested  a  child  amused  with  dolls  yet;  but 
a  multitude  of  large  books  in  gilt  bindings  suggested 
the  active  and  methodical  development  of  a  young  mind, 
which  surely  had  dreams  of  Paradise  on  that  lace  and 
satin  bed  which  covered  a  bedstead  inlaid  with  mother- 
of-pearl.  On  all  the  furniture:  small  arm-chairs,  tables, 
screens,  which  reminded  one  of  butterfly-wings,  mother- 
of-pearl  rainbow-tints  passed  into  milk-white.  Spring 
tones,  joyous  motives,  light  and  graceful  forms,  filled 
the  room  of  that  little  daughter  of  a  millionnaire  with  an 
atmosphere  of  childish  innocence  and  tenderness;  it  was 
lighted,  from  floor  to  ceiling,  and  from  wall  to  wall,  with  a 
cheering  light,  poured  from  the  rosy  tulip-shaped  shade  of  a 
grand  lamp. 

In  that  rosy  lamp-light  Miss  Mary  seemed  full  of  care. 
Under  her  smooth  hair  her  forehead  was  smooth  and  calm, 
but  in  her  thoughtful  eyes,  and  in  the  way  that  her  head 
rested  on  her  hand,  anxiety  was  evident.  Conscientiously 
devoted  to  the  duties  undertaken  by  her,  she  retained  the 
warmth  and  purity  which  permeated  the  house  of  an  Angli- 
can pastor;  chance  had  committed  to  her  care,  in  a  strange 
atmosphere,  a  rare  spirit,  one  of  those  which  come  to  the 
world  in  the  form  of  a  flame.  Even  three  years  earlier,  Cara 
had  seemed  to  her,  at  first  glance,  one  of  those  souls  for 
whom  life  is  love,  worship,  trust,  and — nothing  more.  No 
ambitions  or  imaginings  beyond  those.  All  her  thoughts 
and  wishes  issued  from  her  heart  and  went  back  to  it.  Her 
innate  sensitiveness  was  inexplicable  in  its  source,  just  as 

205 


The  Argonauts 

genius  is  in  other  persons.  Sensitiveness  in  her  demanded 
the  accomplishment  of  her  wishes  as  imperiously  as,  in  or- 
ganisms of  another  sort,  hunger  claims  satisfaction  for  the 
body.  She  was  by  nature  a  flame  and  a  bird.  The  riddle 
of  her  existence  was  involved  in  two  words:  to  blaze  and 
to  fly.  Besides,  she  had  impulse  and  caprice;  she  loved  to 
twitter,  and  to  laugh  quietly  in  a  corner.  From  the  thought- 
fulness  into  which  she  dropped  oftener  and  oftener,  she 
woke  up  as  a  gladsome  and  petted  child;  that  room  was 
filled  with  her  quick  speech,  her  thin  voice,  her  gestures, 
almost  theatrical,  her  laughing,  her  humming,  and  at  times 
all  the  drawing-rooms  were  filled  with  them. 

This  day  she  woke  up  full  of  twittering,  and  before  dress- 
ing threw  her  bare  arms  around  Miss  Mary,  looking  into  her 
eyes,  declaiming  verses,  telling  childish  dreams. 

"  Why  are  you  so  delighted?  "  inquired  Miss  Mary.  "  Is 
it  at  the  coming  ball?  " 

Cara  pouted  her  scarlet  lips  contemptuously,  and  an- 
swered: 

"The  ball!  What  do  I  care?  I  do  not  want  the  ball! 
Mamma  and  Ira  do  not  want  it  either,  so  I  will  go  to-day 
and  beg  father  to  defer  it.  But  I  am  delighted  this  morn- 
ing! The  sun  is  so  pleasant!  Do  you  see  how  the  rays 
quiver;  how  they  slip  among  the  leaves,  hke  little  snakes, 
or  spring,  like  golden  butterflies  ?  " 

With  outstretched  finger  she  showed  the  play  of  sunrays 
among  the  clumps  of  green  at  the  windows;  herself  in  white 
muslin  which  covered  her  slender  neck  and  childish  breast, 
and  with  naked  arms,  she  might  remind  one  of  a  butterfly 
escaping  from  the  chrysalis  of  childhood. 

In  the  evening  (of  that  day)  Cara  circled  about  the  room; 
her  mouth  filled  with  historical  names,  and  lines  of  poetry, 
with  which  she  had  been  occupied  all  day.     Finally,  she 

1306 


The  Argonauts 

caught  Puffie  in  her  arms,  and,  courtesying  so  low  before 
Miss  Mary  that  she  touched  the  floor,  announced  that  she 
was  going  to  her  father.  From  time  immemorial  she  had 
not  talked  with  him  a  moment.  Sometimes  he  was  going 
out,  or  had  not  the  time.  But  to-day  she  would  watch 
him,  she  would  wait  till  all  his  business  was  finished,  all 
his  guests  gone;  she  would  seize  her  father  and  bring  him 
to  her  mother's  study.  Miss  Mary  would  go  there;  per- 
haps Maryan  would  be  there  too. 

Her  idyllic  heart,  like  a  bird  in  a  grove,  was  eternally 
dreaming  of  quiet  retreats,  of  confidential  talks,  of  the  at- 
tachment of  hearts  and  the  pressure  of  hands.  Her  picture 
of  the  Anglican  rectory  taken  from  Miss  Mary's  narrative, 
and  situated  in  a  grove  of  old  oaks,  smiled  at  her  like  a  bit 
of  Paradise.  "  But  mamma's  study  is  so  quiet,  and  full  of 
fragrant  flowers " 

An  hour  had  passed  since  she  had  skipped  away  with 
Puffie  in  her  arms,  and  with  the  reflection  of  a  bit  of  Para- 
dise in  her  eyes.  Miss  Mary  felt  alarmed.  For  some  time 
she  had  felt  continual  alarm.  She  observed  carefully  the 
change  taking  place  in  Cara's  disposition,  and  discovered  in 
it  causes  for  anxiety.  But  she  could  do  nothing.  While 
she  was  friendly  to  the  family  to  which  fate  had  brought 
her,  and  while  she  experienced  from  it  kindness  mingled 
with  respect,  it  was  to  her  a  stranger.  She  observed  every- 
thing, and  said  nothing.  She  strove,  more  and  more,  to  be 
inseparable  from  Cara,  and  to  turn  her  attention  toward 
things  of  remote  interest.  That  was  a  splendid  mansion, 
but  terrors  were  roaming  around  in  its  drawing-rooms, 
among  plushes,  mirrors,  damasks,  satins,  and  gold. 

From  the  gates  of  the  mansion,  the  rumble  of  a  carriage 
went  forth,  grew  faint  in  the  street,  and  was  lost  in  the 
distance.    The  master  of  the  mansion  was  in  that  carriage 

207 


The  Argonauts 

which  sank  in  the  uproar  of  the  city,  to  return,  barely,  at 
daybreak.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  passed,  Cara  did  not 
return.  Maybe  she  went  to  lier  mother?  Anotlier  quar- 
ter of  an  liour.  Miss  Mary  rose  up,  took  a  small  candle- 
stick in  her  hand  with  a  candle,  which  she  lighted  to  use  in 
her  wandering  through  the  series  of  drawing-rooms.  But 
among  the  soft  folds  of  cretonne  and  muslin  the  lofty  door, 
ornamented  with  gilded  arabesques  and  borders,  opened 
slowly,  and  Cara  walked  into  the  chamber  holding  Puffie 
at  her  bosom.  Her  face  was  so  bent  that  the  lower  part 
of  it  was  hidden  in  the  silky  coat  of  the  little  animal. 
Miss  Mary,  sitting  down  again,  inquired: 

"Where  were  you,  Cara,  after  your  father  went  away? 
With  mamma?  " 

In  answer,  a  few  steps  from  the  door,  the  sound  of  a 
fall  was  heard.  That  was  Puff,  he  had  dropped  from  her 
arms  to  the  floor.  She  had  let  him  slip  down  along  her 
dress.  Cara  had  never  treated  her  favorite  with  such  indif- 
ference, or  so  carelessly.  Leaning  forward.  Miss  Mary  fixed 
her  eyes  on  the  young  girl.  Oh,  my  God!  What  has  hap- 
pened? Who  can  tell,  but  something  has  happened,  that  is 
certain.  Cara's  cheeks,  recalling  usually  the  leaves  of  a  full 
rose,  were  as  white  as  the  soft  muslin  covering  her  chamber, 
and  her  lips,  always  scarlet,  formed  a  barely  visible  line,  pale 
and  narrow.  Tall,  slender,  and  erect,  without  the  slightest 
movement  of  hand  or  head,  with  dry  eyes  looking  some- 
where into  remoteness,  she  passed  through  the  room,  and 
with  automatic  movement  dropped  into  a  low  chair  near 
Miss  Mary,  who  touched  her  hand  and  felt  the  cold  of  ice 
in  it. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  dear  ?    Are  you  ill  ?  " 

Instead  of  giving  an  answer  Cara  rose  and  went  to  the 
cluster  of  green  plants  at  the  window.    With  her  shoulders 

208 


The  Argonauts 

turned  toward  Miss  Mary,  she  seemed  to  be  looking  at  the 
plants;  but,  after  a  few  minutes,  she  turned,  and  making 
some  steps  stopped,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor. 

"  Cara,  come  to  me!  "  cried  Miss  Mary. 

She  went,  and  sat  down  at  her  side.  The  English  girl 
looked  at  her  sharply,  and  asked  in  a  low  voice: 

"  Have  you  met  anything  disagreeable?  Or  anyone?  Or 
has  anyone " 

She  did  not  finish,  for  the  delicate,  pale  face  turned  from 
her  with  quick  movement,  and  said  very  hurriedly: 

"No!  no!  no!" 

Then  the  slender  form  of  the  girl  slipped  slowly  from 
the  chair  to  the  carpet,  and  her  head  rested  heavily  on  the 
knees  of  her  governess.  But  barely  had  the  soft  hand  of  the 
English  girl  touched  her  hair,  when  Cara  rose  and  went  to 
the  other  side  of  the  room,  where  the  light  screen,  struck 
by  her  skirt,  tottered  and  fell  with  a  clatter.  Without  notic- 
ing the  noise  Cara  turned  now  toward  the  lamp,  and  with  a 
face  which  was  growing  ever  paler  she  sat  down  opposite 
Miss  Mary  and  opened  one  of  the  books  lying  on  the  table. 
Her  brows  were  raised,  this  brought  many  wrinkles  to  her 
forehead;  for  a  time  it  seemed  as  though  she  were  reading, 
then  she  closed  the  book  with  a  sudden  gesture,  stood  up 
again,  and  went  toward  the  door  leading  to  the  drawing- 
rooms. 

"  Are  you  going  to  your  mamma?  " 

She  made  no  answer,  but  sat  on  a  low  stool  near  the  door. 
Puff  went  up,  and,  putting  his  forepaws  on  her  knees,  licked 
her  hand.  But  that  hand,  usually  so  fondling,  pushed  the 
little  dog  far  away  with  a  sudden  movement.  Miss  Mary 
rose,  and  was  going  to  the  stool,  but  she  had  hardly  readied 
the  middle  of  the  room  when  Cara  rose  again  and  went 
to  meet  her.    The  English  girl  seized  both  her  hands. 

209 


The  Argonauts 

"  My  dear,"  began  the  governess,  "  you  frighten  me. 
What  has  happened?  What  is  your  trouble?  Yon  should 
have  confidence  in  me — I  am  your  friend,  and  a  friend  of 
your  family — perhaps,  I  can  explain,  or  help  you  in  some 
way.  Has  anything  happened?  Has  there  been  an  acci- 
dent?    What  is  it  that  troubles  you?" 

The  dry,  dark  eyes  of  the  girl,  looking,  as  it  were,  from 
some  distant  depth,  met  the  kindly  glance  of  her  friend, 
and  this  whisper  came  from  her  lips: 

"  Nothing!    Nothing! " 

Then  going  some  steps,  she  stopped  at  the  table  with  the 
lamp  on  it,  and  again  opened  one  of  the  books  there.  Miss 
Mary  followed,  put  her  arm  around  Cara,  and  wished  to 
draw  her  near,  but  she,  with  an  alarmed  and  supple  move- 
ment, slipped  from  her  embrace,  put  the  book  down,  and 
turning,  started  to  go  somewhere.  Miss  Mary  faced  toward 
the  door,  and  said: 

"  I  will  go  for  your  mother." 

But  that  instant  she  was  frightened;  for  Cara,  recovering 
her  Yoice  at  once,  screamed: 

"  No! " 

Her  eyes  grew  wild,  and  she  began  to  tremble. 

There  was  no  doubt :  In  the  row  of  empty  drawing-rooms 
which  stretched  beyond  that  door,  ornamented  with  ara- 
besques and  gilded  borders,  the  girl  had  seen  some  horror. 
But  what  the  horror  was,  and  whence  it  had  crept  forth. 
Miss  Mary  did  not  know.  She  sat  down,  and  pale  with 
fear,  placed  her  helpless  hands  upon  her  knees.  What 
could  she  do  in  presence  of  those  blue  lips,  which  were  as 
silent  as  if  shut  by  some  seal,  either  sacred  or  infernal? 
What  could  she  do?  Cara's  father  was  not  at  home,  and 
to  call  her  mother,  when  the  very  mention  of  that  mother 
brought  a  cry  of  terror  from  the  girl's  breast,  would  have 

210 


The  Argonauts 

been  a  useless  cruelty.  Her  brother?  Her  elder  sister? 
Miss  Mary's  hand  moved  in  a  manner  indicating  doubt. 
It  was  necessary  to  wait,  to  leave  her  some  time  to  her- 
self.    She  might  grow  calm,  overcome  her  fear,  speak. 

Left  to  herself  Cara  went  to  the  bed,  knelt  by  it,  and 
buried  her  face  in  the  coverlet;  but  a  few  minutes  later  she 
wound  her  lithe  form  like  the  twist  of  a  serpent,  and  turned 
her  face  toward  the  ceiling.  She  remained  in  this  posture 
rather  long,  only  changing,  from  time  to  time,  the  position 
of  her  head,  which  rested  on  the  coverlet. 

Miss  Mary  remembered  people  seized  with  violent  pains, 
who,  in  the  fruitless  hope  of  allaying  them,  changed  posi- 
tions and  postures  continually.  She  remembered,  also,  the 
faintness  and  weariness  which  cover  the  faces  of  people  with 
pallor  and  an  expression  of  unbearable  disgust.  A  certain 
disgust,  repulsive  and  imendurable,  must  be  working  in  that 
slender  breast,  from  which  a  low  moan  came  when  she  turned 
her  head  from  side  to  side. 

"Are  you  ill,  dearest  Cara;   are  you  in  pain?" 

From  the  bed,  in  a  scarcely  audible  whisper,  came: 

«  Ko." 

She  rose,  went  to  Miss  Mary,  sat  on  the  carpet,  put  her 
head  on  the  English  girl's  knee,  with  her  face  toward  the 
ceiling.  She  threw  her  hands  back  on  her  dishevelled  hair, 
and  then  let  them  drop  without  control,  so  that  they  fell  on 
the  carpet  as  if  lifeless.  Her  dry,  inflamed  eyes  continued 
to  look  at  the  ceiling.  Miss  Mary,  bent,  and  making  her 
words  as  low  and  fondling  as  human  words  could  be,  in- 
quired again: 

"  Has  anything  ha]ipened?    Has  anything  hurt  you?  " 

Changing  the  position  of  her  head,  and  shaking  it,  as  if 
she  wished  to  shake  something  off,  she  whispered: 

"  Nothing." 

211 


The  Argonauts 

And  rising,  she  went  again  to  the  end  of  the  room.  Her 
iiair,  not  long,  bnt  thick,  like  a  bundle  of  silken  flax,  lay 
motionless  on  her  narrow  shoulders;  her  pendent  hands 
seemed  like  two  rose-buds  falling  from  a  bush.  She  stood 
again  for  a  moment  before  the  clump  of  green  plants,  then 
went  around  it  and  hid  beyond  the  thickest  palms  at  the 
window.  Outside  the  window  was  the  darkness  of  a  win- 
ter evening,  relieved  somewhat  by  snow  which  covered  the 
broad  garden.  The  darkness  was  spotted  by  red  lamps, 
which  illuminated  the  street  beyond  the  garden.  Some 
months  before,  Cara  had  opened  a  window  overlooking 
that  same  garden;  she  did  this  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
to  look  at  the  first  snow  and  at  the  frost  in  the  moonlight. 
Snow  was  lying  there  now,  at  the  close  of  winter,  surely 
the  last  snow. 

Much  time  passed.  Miss  Mary  rose,  and  went  to  the  nar- 
row space  betv^een  the  clump  of  plants  and  the  window, 
Cara  was  standing  there  at  the  very  window,  looking  into 
the  darkness,  or  at  the  red  spots  made  by  lanterns,  placed 
here  and  there  in  it.  The  governess  saw  that  a  change  had 
taken  place  in  her.  She  was  not  pale  as  before;  on  the  con- 
trary, a  lively  flush  had  come  out  on  her  face.  Her  features 
were  less  rigid;  instead  of  the  nauseous  disgust  and  dull 
pain,  an  expression  of  deep  thought  had  covered  them.  As 
happened  often  when  Cara  was  thinking  deeply,  the  point 
of  her  finger  was  in  her  mouth.  Miss  Mary  felt  relieved. 
"  Cara  is  no  longer  pale,"  thought  she;  "  she  has  stopped 
over  something;  she  stands  long  in  one  place;  she  is  re- 
covering her  balance;  soon  she  will  be  pacified  completely, 
and  will  tell  what  has  happened." 

"  Do  you  not  wish  me  to  read  to  you  ?  " 

Cara  shook  her  head,  and  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  I  want  to  sleep." 

213 


The  Argonauts 

"  To  sleep!  so  early?  But  you  are  tired,  of  course.  Very 
well,  dear.  Lie  down  and  rest.  I  will  call  Ludvika  to  open 
the  bed.  Or  no — I  will  do  it  myself.  No  one  need  make 
a  noise  here  that  would  prevent  us  from  talking." 

With  great  goodness  and  kindly  grace,  while  arranging 
the  bed  with  a  rustle  of  silk,  and  the  waves  of  lace  going 
through  her  fingers.  Miss  Mary  told  vivaciously  of  many 
things  which  were  near  and  confidential,  things  always 
affecting  Cara,  and  though  no  answer  came  to  her  from 
beyond  the  green  plants,  her  voice,  which  sounded  agree- 
ably, scattered  the  gloom  and  silence  of  the  chamber. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  door  to  the  drawing-room  was 
opened  partly,  and  the  voice  of  Irene  said  some  words  in 
English.    Miss  Mary  went  to  the  door  on  tip-toe. 

"  Cara  is  sleeping  already,"  whispered  she;  "  we  ought 
not  to  wake  her;   she  is  a  little  unwell." 

The  door  was  closed  slowly  and  in  silence;  some  minutes 
later  the  maid  brought  a  tray  in  with  tea  and  many  dishes. 
Soon  after  Malvina  entered  the  room.  She  approached  her 
daughter's  bed  quietly,  and  anxious. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  whispered  she.  "Why  did  she 
go  to  bed  so  early?" 

Miss  Mary  gave  some  pacifying  answer.  That  was  caution. 
She  felt  always  in  that  house,  and  on  that  day  more  than 
ever,  the  need  of  caution  in  making  observations.  Both 
looked  at  the  girl,  who,  as  they  thought,  was  sleeping 
soundly;  she  breathed  slowly  and  evenly,  with  a  deep  flush 
on  her  cheeks. 

Malvina  bent  down  and  impressed  a  long  kiss  on  the  fore- 
head of  her  sleeping  daughter.  Then  Miss  Mary  noted 
something  of  which  she  was  not  sure:  when  her  mother's 
lips  rested  on  Cara's  forehead  a  quiver  ran  through  the  girl's 
body,  from  head  to  foot.     But  Miss  Mary  was  not  sure 

213 


The  Argonauts 

whether  Cara  really  trembled,  or  it  only  seemed  so  to  her. 
After  Malvina's  departure  she  remained  at  the  bedside,  with 
eyes  fixed  on  the  delicate  face,  which  was  growing  more 
inflamed  with  an  ever-increasing  flush.  A  number  of  dark 
spots  came  out  on  her  purple  lips,  which  were  parched  and 
half  open,  her  small  pearl-like  teeth  gleamed  behind  them. 

"  She  is  sick,  but  has  fallen  asleep!  "  thought  Miss  Mary. 
*'  Perhaps  that  horror,  which  I  thought  seized  the  child  in 
the  empty  drawing-rooms,  was  an  invention  of  her  mind? 
Surely  it  was  nothing  more;  she  is  simply  ill;  perhaps,  not 
very  ill,  since  she  fell  asleep  so  quickly." 

The  small  night-lamp  shone  in  Cara's  room  like  a  blue 
spark.  In  the  adjoining  room,  beyond  the  open  door,  far 
into  the  night,  rustled  book-leaves  turned  by  the  English 
governess.  Miss  Mary  watched  long,  and  stood  often  in  the 
open  door,  between  her  room  and  Cara's,  inclining  forward, 
looking  from  a  distance  at  the  bed  from  which  the  regular, 
unbroken  sound  of  breathing  came  to  her.  She  is  asleep. 
She  moved  a  number  of  times  and  groaned,  then  again  she 
was  silent.  Puff  lay  at  her  feet,  like  a  bundle  of  ash-colored 
silk,  and  snored  slightly.  The  street  beyond  the  garden  grew 
more  and  more  silent  till  it  was  silent  altogether.  At  the 
windows  light  began  to  whiten  the  shades  and  to  draw  aside 
tlie  black  curtain  of  darkness  which  was  on  the  furniture. 
The  wearied  Miss  Mary,  in  a  long  dressing-gown,  ready  to 
spring  from  her  bed  any  moment,  slept  for  a  short  time  and 
then  woke  with  a  feeling  of  great  fear.  She  was  roused  by 
a  sharp  cold  by  a  breath  of  frosty  air  coming  in  through  the 
open  door.  She  sprang  up  and  ran,  with  a  cry,  to  Cara's 
chamber.  There,  on  the  threshold  she  saw  beyond  the 
spreading  palm  leaves  the  great  window  half  open,  and  a 
slender,  white  figure  sitting  there  in  the  gray  dawn.  When 
had  she  done  that?    How  long  had  she  sat  there  with  her 

214 


The  Argonauts 

shoulders  resting  on  the  window-frame,  with  her  naked 
feet  hanging  in  the  air,  with  her  breast  and  arms  stripped 
even  of  muslin?    No  one  was  ever  to  know. 

Miss  Mary,  while  carrying  the  girl  to  bed  with  that 
strength  which  only  terror  can  give  one,  felt  in  her  embrace, 
limbs  as  stiff  as  those  of  a  frozen  corpse;  but  her  breast  rose 
and  fell  with  her  breathing  which  was  heavy  and  audible; 
her  cheeks  and  forehead  were  burning.  In  half  a  minute 
the  window  was  closed;  Miss  Mary,  with  all  the  strength 
of  long  and  supple  arms,  strove  to  warm  the  breast  and 
shoulders,  which  were  as  cold  as  ice,  and  the  skin  on  them 
stiffened. 

"  Oh,  child!  you  unkind!  most  dear!  poor  child!  Why 
have  you  done  this?  Is  it  possible  to  do  such  things?  Did 
you  know  v/hat  you  were  doing?  Was  that  an  unfortunate 
accident,  or  did  you  do  it  purposely?  Tell,  was  it  done 
purposely?     Tell  me!   tell!  " 

Cara  for  the  first  time  looked  straight  into  Miss  Mary's 
face;  she  bent  her  head  with  a  lively  movement;  her  eyes 
shot  forth  triumph;  a  smile  encircled  her  parched  lips.  In 
the  glitter  of  her  eyes,  in  the  smile,  in  the  curve  of  her  neck, 
for  the  twinkle  of  an  eye,  shone  forth  once  again  the  wilful, 
capricious  Cara.  Next  moment  her  teeth  began  to  chatter 
and  her  whole  body  trembled  in  a  feverish  chill,  so  that  the 
silk  of  the  bed  rustled  loudly.  With  that  rustling  was  joined 
a  dry,  unbroken  cough,  which  shook  the  fragile  and  ice-cold 
breast,  the  skin  of  which  was  rough,  and  had  a  tanned  and 
withered  look.  Miss  Mary  sprang  from  her  knees.  On  her 
lips  were  the  words: 

"  Her  parents!    A  doctor!  " 

The  rumbling  of  a  carriage  was  heard  far  away  on  the 
street,  it  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  rolled  in  through  the  gate 
of  the  house,  and  was  silent.    Miss  Mary,  all  in  white,  her 

215 


The  Argonauts 

hair  hanging  over  her  shoulders,  hastened  to  Darvid's  study, 
through  drawing-rooms  in  which,  from  behind  black  veils 
which  the  pale  dawn  was  removing,  emerged  glass,  metal, 
pictures,  mirrors,  plush,  silk,  polished  surfaces,  gildings, 
mosaics,  marbles,  porcelain,  in  the  dull  gleam  of  their 
colors. 

The  dawn  was  in  Darvid's  study  also;  but  the  servant  was 
lighting  the  hanging-lamp  over  the  round  table.  Darvid^ 
very  pale,  with  a  nervous  movement,  tore  rather  than  drew 
the  gloves  from  his  hands. 

"  Then  did  she  return  from  me?  Where  did  she  come 
from?  You  say  that  she  was  with  me,  and  returned — in 
that  condition?  But  she  was  not  here  yesterday;  I  did  not 
see  her;  she  was  not  here " 

"  She  was,"  answered  Miss  Mary;  "  she  said  that  she  was 
going  to  you;  she  did  not  return  for  more  than  an  hour." 

"  She  might  have  been  with  her  mother?  " 

"  No;  I  asked  her  sister  about  that.  She  was  not  with  her 
mother;  she  was  here." 

Darvid  was  astonished;  he  thought  a  while,  and  called 
suddenly: 

"Ah!" 

There  was  something  tragic  in  the  gesture  with  which  he 
indicated  the  thick  case  full  of  books,  forming  with  the  two 
walls  a  little  triangular  space;  then  in  the  manner  in  which 
he  intertwined  his  fingers: 

"  She  was  there!     And — she  heard!     Ah!  " 

He  stood  for  a  moment  as  if  rooted  to  the  floor;  he  bit  his 
lip;  there  were  quivers  on  his  cheeks  and  wrinkles  on  his 
forehead;  then  he  approached  Miss  Mary,  and  asked  in  such 
a  low  voice  that  she  barely  heard  him: 

"  Did  she  do  this  purposely — purposely?    Purposely?  " 

With  clasped  hands  she  said  in  a  very  low  voice: 

216 


The  Argonauts 

"  I  cannot  hide — maybe  something  will  depend  on  this — 
she  did  it  purposely." 

Then  that  man,  usually  calm  and  regular  in  all  his  move- 
ments, rushed  to  the  door  of  the  antechamber  with  the  spring 
of  a  tiger. 

"  Carriage!  "  cried  he. 

When  the  most  famous  doctor  in  the  city  came  out  of  the 
sick  girl's  chamber  that  day  for  the  second  time,  Darvid  met 
him  in  the  blue  drawing-room,  alone.  He  was  as  usual  self- 
possessed,  and  with  a  pleasing  smile  in  the  presence  of 
that  man  with  a  great  name. 

"  Is  the  disease  defined?  "  asked  he. 

It  was  defined,  and  very  serious.  Inflammation  had  seized 
the  greater  part  of  the  lungs,  and  was  working  fiercely  on 
an  organism  weakened  by  a  previous  attack.  Besides,  some 
kind  of  complication  had  supervened,  something  coming 
from  the  brain,  from  the  nerves,  something  psychic. 

Darvid  mentioned  a  consultation. 

"We  may  summon  from  abroad — from  Paris,  from 
Vienna;  we  have  telegraphs  and  railroads  at  our  service — as 
to  expense — "  concluded  he  with  indifference — "  as  to  ex- 
pense, I  shall  not  spare  it.  My  whole  fortune  is  at  the  dis- 
posal of " 

He  fixed  in  the  eyes  of  the  doctor  a  look  in  which  was  the 
desire  for  a  silent  understanding. 

"  This  is  no  hyper1)ole,  or  figure  of  rhetoric.  I  am  ready 
to  summon  lialf  medical  Europe,  and  spend  half  my  fortune." 

There  was  a  ([uivcr  on  his  temples,  around  his  mouth,  and 
near  his  eyes,  but  he  smiled.    The  doctor  smiled  also. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  he,  "  tlie  case  is  not  so  peculiar  as  to 
need  presentation  before  the  judgment  of  Europe.  But 
being  in  Europe — yes.  I  will  serve  you  at  once  with  the 
names  of  my  foreign  colleagues.    But  as  to  colossal  money 

217 


The  Argonauts 

sacrifices,  I  must  say  that  they  will  not  help.  Death,  my 
dear  sir,  is  such  a  giantess,  that  if  she  is  to  come,  mountains 
of  gold  will  not  stop  her.  I  will  not  say  that  she  must  come 
surely  in  this  case.  But  if  she  is  to  come,  half  your  fortune 
— that  is,  golden  mountains — yes,  golden  mountains  will 
be  no  hindrance  to  her.  She  will  spring  over  them  and 
— come." 

After  the  doctor  had  gone,  Darvid  remained  alone  for  a 
while,  and,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor,  he  thought: 

"A  giantess!  Goldenmountains  will  not  stop  her!  True, 
but  science  is  also  a  giantess.  And,  besides,  is  human,  and 
every  human  thing  travels  in  golden  chariots.  But  to  set 
one  giantess  against  the  other,  gold  and  energy  are  needed." 

For  some  time  the  great  study  was  seething  with  activity, 
in  sending  letters  and  telegrams.  Darvid  was  heard  com- 
manding and  giving  directions  in  a  voice  always  low,  but 
emphatic.  He  was  decisive,  cool,  and  active,  as  he  always 
was  when  going  to  a  contest.  In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes 
arriving  carriages  halted,  one  after  another,  before  the  gate 
of  the  mansion.  Out  of  them  issued  men  full  of  impor- 
tance, with  famous  names,  very  learned,  specialists,  old  and 
young,  strong  in  theory  and  practice.  Some  of  these  men 
it  was  almost  impossible  to  see,  for  they  were  reposing  in 
wealth  and  on  laurels,  but  they  had  been  snatched  from 
their  rest  by  the  rumble  of  the  golden  chariot  which  came 
for  them.  There  were  many  of  these  men.  The  blue 
room  grew  black  from  their  garments  as  from  a  cloud.  Dar- 
vid pressed  their  hands  a  little  more  firmly  than  he  was  wont 
to  do;  perhaps  his  side-whiskers  dropped  a  little  less  sym- 
metrically than  usual,  along  cheeks  somewhat  paler  than 
usual,  but  there  was  no  other  change  in  the  man.  And 
when  the  cloud  of  dark  garments  flowed  from  the  blue  room 
to  the  chamber  of  his  daughter,  a  spark  of  triumph  glittered 

318 


The  Argonauts 

in  his  eye.  Let  one  giantess  fight  with  the  other;  we  shall 
see  which  one  wins.  The  power  of  science  was  one  of  the 
very  few  articles  of  Darvid's  faith.  That  power  had  to  be 
great,  since  it  was  indispensable  in  the  conquest  of  wealth. 
He  had  tried  that  power  more  than  once  in  his  mighty  strug- 
gles for  wealth;  he  would  try  it  now,  also.  This  was  only 
the  beginning  of  the  battle.  Diseases  last  a  series  of  days, 
sometimes  weeks,  but  to-morrow,  after  to-morrow,  Europe 
will  begin  to  ride  hither  on  the  golden  chariot.  Giantess 
against  giantess!    "We  shall  see  their  force. 

Inflammation  extending  with  great  rapidity  in  the  weak 
breast  of  the  girl,  besides  a  complication  of  the  brain,  not 
considerable,  but  giving  much  cause  for  concern — the  nor- 
mal condition  of  the  mind  shaken — that  was  the  case.  A 
long  consultati-on  was  carried  on  in  an  undertone;  some 
medicines  were  prescribed,  and  some  advice  given,  in  the 
domain  of  hygiene.  Among  the  carriages  which  left  the 
gate  of  the  mansion,  two  were  empty.  The  two  dignitaries 
of  science,  who  had  remained  in  his  house,  Darvid  conducted 
to  his  study  for  black  coffee,  excellent  liquors,  and  cigars  of 
uncommon  quality.  They  had  to  remain  some  hours,  then 
they  would  be  relieved  by  others.  They  opposed  this  wish 
at  first,  for  it  was  in  opposition  to  their  customs,  to  obliga- 
tions assumed  elsewhere;  but  Darvid,  with  his  eyes  looking 
very  kindly  into  theirs,  uttered  a  magic  word.  It  was  a 
figure  unheard  of — almost  fabulous.  They  hesitated  still; 
resisted;  then  they  came  to  an  understanding  as  to  the 
how-and-when — and  remained.  Darvid's  forehead  smoothed 
for  the  moment,  all  wrinkles  vanished  from  it.  His  child 
(in  his  mind  he  added),  ''  my  little  one,"  during  one  hour 
of  the  day  or  night  would  not  be  without  the  good  giantess, 
who  would  do  battle  against  the  wicked  one. 

In  the  city,  people  said  that  Darvid,  in  anxiety  for  his 

319 


The  Argonauts 

daughter  would  commit  some  mad  foll}^;  but  those  who  had 
seen  him  shrugged  their  shoulders.  Not  at  all!  There  was 
not  a  man  on  earth  who  could  preserve  better,  in  such  straits, 
cool  blood,  self-confidence,  fluent  speech,  affability  per- 
fect, though  cold.  Only  at  times,  from  the  quiver  which 
ran  over  his  face,  from  the  temporary  stare  of  his  eyes,  and 
tlie  slight  carelessness  in  dressing  his  hair,  vras  it  possible  to 
divine  in  him  a  man  playing  for  great  stakes.  Keally,  in 
the  battle  which  he  had  begun  and  was  fighting,  the  ques- 
tion was  not  of  Cara  alone — it  was  of  her  above  all,  but  not 
of  her  alone.  At  the  bottom  of  his  being  he  felt  himself  a 
player,  then,  as  he  had  been  countless  times  before  in  cases 
wholly  different;  a  player  aided  by  energy,  money,  and  uni- 
versal reason,  which  was  his  own  and  that  bought  by  money. 
The  stakes  in  this  play  were  not  only  the  life  of  his  child, 
but  the  one  faith  which  he  had — his  faith  in  the  all-mighti- 
ness, and  all-effectiveness  of  energy,  sound  sense,  and 
money. 

At  one  time  and  another,  either  with  the  doctors,  or  with- 
out them,  Darvid  entered  Cara's  chamber;  where,  in  obedi- 
ence to  medical  advice,  they  had  not  darkened  the  great 
windows  through  which  light  was  pouring  in  its  golden 
torrents.  This  light  penetrated  the  yellowish  folds  of 
cretonne  at  the  walls,  lent  apparent  life  to  forget-me-nots 
and  rose-buds  scattered  over  them,  played  among  the 
palm  leaves,  lay  on  the  flowery  carpet,  struck  out  golden 
sparks  on  the  gilding  of  toys  and  books,  played  with  rain- 
bow gleams  on  surfaces  inlaid  with  mother-of-pearl.  In  this 
gleaming  light,  near  the  mirror,  which  was  surrounded  by 
porcelain  flowers,  amid  flasks  gilded  and  enamelled,  a  rosy 
Cupid  was  drawing  a  bow  with  a  golden  arrow,  a  marble 
cat  lay  at  the  feet  of  a  statuette,  which  held  a  dove  at 
its  bosom;    on  a  small  desk  of  lapis-lazuli  as  blue  as  the 

220 


The  Argonauts 

sky,  a  bronze  statuette  personifying  the  Dew  was  inclin- 
ing gracefully  an  amphora  above  an  open  book,  skeins  of 
various  colored  silks  were  hanging  at  little  looms.  Amid 
all  these  tones  of  spring,  Joyous  themes,  light  and  graceful 
forms,  the  sunlight  went  to  Cara's  bed,  and,  from  the  white 
cambric  on  which  she  was  lying,  increased  the  paleness  of 
her  yellow  hair.  On  the  pillow  with  lace  it  was  difficult  at 
first  to  distinguish  where  the  sunrays  ended  and  the  maiden's 
hair  began.  But,  amid  the  yellow  of  the  rays  and  the  hair, 
her  oval,  delicate  face  in  its  bright  flush  seemed  a  scarlet 
flower.  Iler  lips,  blooming  with  a  bloody  purple,  her  eyes, 
flashing  with  a  dry  fire,  were  silent.  But  her  breast  labored 
with  hoarse,  hurried  breathing,  and  a  cough  shook  her  body, 
the  slender,  fragile  form  of  which  was  indicated  beneath 
the  blue  silk  coverlet,  like  a  fine  piece  of  sculpture. 

When  Darvid  entered  the  chamber  a  dark-robed  woman 
drew  back  from  the  bed  of  the  suffering  Cara,  without  the 
least  rustle,  and  stood  at  some  distance  with  a  pained,  pallid 
face  under  smoothly  dressed  hair  of  the  same  hue  exactly 
as  that  which,  in  dishevelled  abundance,  lay  mingled  with 
pale  sunrays  on  the  pillow  of  the  sick  girl. 

"  How  is  it  with  you,  little  one?  "  asked  Darvid.  "  Per- 
haps you  feel  somewhat  better?  Periiaps  you  would  like 
something?  " 

For  its  only  answer  the  face,  which  was  like  a  scarlet 
flower,  turned  toward  the  wall,  covered  with  forget-me-nots 
and  rose-buds. 

"  Why  not  answer,  Cara  ?  Perhaps  you  would  like  some- 
thing? Only  say,  only  whisper.  Say  into  my  ear,  I  would 
bring  you  anything,  get  it,  buy  it.  Perhaps  you  would  like 
something?  Have  something,  something  to  look  at.  You 
can  have  anything — anything,  only  say  what  it  is — whisper 
in  my  car." 

221 


The  Argonauts 

But  in  vain  he  bent  low,  brought  his  ear  to  her  lips 
almost,  no  sound  came  from  them,  no  whisper,  only  her 
face  turned  away  still  more  and  her  breath  became  hoarser 
and  heavier. 

How  many  times  did  he  go  there  and  put  to  her  the  ques- 
tion: "  Would  you  like  something?  Will  you  tell  what?  " 
He  thought  that  the  young  girl,  though  sick,  must  remember 
some  wish,  some  desire  which,  if  granted,  might  give  her 
relief  and  some  comfort.  He  had  power  to  gratify  every 
wish,  even  the  wildest,  but  had  not  the  power  of  drawing 
from  her  lips  even  one  word,  and  that  the  briefest. 

Some  days  passed.  In  front  of  the  mansion  the  carriages 
of  doctors  were  arriving  and  departing  continually,  meeting 
on  the  way  a  multitude  of  equipages  from  which  men  came 
out  and  entered  the  study  of  the  master  of  the  mansion,  or 
only  came  to  the  entrance  to  inscribe  their  names  in  a  book 
furnished  by  the  Swiss  in  livery.  Once,  when  coming  home, 
Darvid  met  on  the  stairway  two  men  who  spoke  a  foreign 
language.  He  was  eloquent,  triumphant.  These  were  allies 
from  abroad,  coming  to  strengthen  the  local  forces,  which 
joined  tliem  in  full  array  for  a  consultation.  Again  a  cloud 
of  black  garments  moved  from  the  blue  room  to  the  chamber 
which  was  full  of  spring  colors,  of  childhood's  playthings, 
of  mother-of-pearl  rainbow  gleams.  One  more  mountain  of 
gold  and  of  intellect  set  up  as  a  bulwark  of  defence  near  the 
bed  of  the  sick  girl.  When  the  cloud  of  black  garments  and 
serious  faces  had  vanished,  the  mother  drew  near: 

"  These  gentlemen  have  wearied  you.  That  is  nothing. 
Because  they  have  come  you  will  be  well.  Those  are  very 
wise  men.  The  two  who  have  just  come  are  Germans; 
throughout  the  whole  world  they  are  famous.  They  will 
cure  you  to  a  certainty.  But  now  you  may  swallow  a  little 
of  those  excellent  sweets  which  those  gentlemen  let  us  give 

223 


The  Argonauts 

you.  Or  a  drop  of  wine.  Perhaps  a  spoonful,  one  little 
spoonful  of  bouillon?  " 

Cara's  only  answer  was  to  turn  on  her  yellowish  bed  to  the 
wall  sprinkled  with  spring  flowers,  her  face  in  scarlet  flushes. 
Malvina,  bending  low,  kissed  the  little  hand,  the  heat  of 
which  burnt  her  lips,  and  which  trembled  under  those  lips, 
like  a  leaf  in  a  blast  of  wind. 

''  Why  not  answer  me,  Cara?  One  word!  only  one  short, 
little  word!  Shall  I  give  a  drop  of  wine ?  Those  gentlemen 
ordered  it — will  you  have  it  now?    Whisper!  " 

But  in  vain  did  she  put  her  ear  almost  down  to  Cara's 
lips,  not  a  sound,  not  a  whisper,  she  only  turned  her  face 
away  farther,  while  her  breath  grew  in  hoarseness. 

Maryan  came  in  with  a  great  bouquet  of  flowers  in  his 
hand. 

"  What,  are  we  sick,  little  one!  "  began  he.  "  Well,  that 
is  nothing  wonderful!  King  Solomon  said  that  for  every- 
one there  must  be  a  time  for  sickness  and  a  time  for  dancing. 
You  will  be  sick  a  little  while,  and  then  you  will  dance.  But 
now  I  have  brought  flowers  to  cheer  you.  Flowers  without 
odor,  for  sick  girls  might  get  headache  from  fragrant  ones. 
These  have  no  fragrance,  but  they  are  very  beautiful.  You 
will  look  most  poetic  when  I  scatter  them  on  the  bed  before 
you.  They  will  gladden  your  sight  after  looking  at  those 
dreary  pedants  who  are  like  a  flock  of  wise  ravens.  Father 
has  brought  in  the  wisest  ravens  from  all  the  world  for  you; 
I  have  gathered  throughout  this  whole  city  the  most  beauti- 
ful flowers.    Mein  Liebchen,  ivas  luillst  du  mehr?  " 

While  laughing  he  scattered  on  the  blue  coverlet,  and  on 
the  slender  form  of  the  maiden  indicated  under  it,  the  most 
beautiful  flowers  which  the  best  conservatories  could  yield 
to  him;  she  only  looked  at  her  brother  with  great  burning 
eyes,  and  when  he  went  away  she  began,  with  a  slow  and 

223 


The  Argonauts 


monotonons  movement  to  throw  them  from  the  bed.  She 
did  not  look  at  these  flowers,  but  the  slender,  dry,  rosy  hand 
of  the  girl  worked  and  worked  on,  pushing  from  the  bed  the 
rich  twigs  and  beautiful  flowers,  which  fell,  one  after  an- 
other, with  a  dull  rustle  on  the  carpet.  She  wanted  nothing. 
But  in  the  night,  when  Malvina  and  Miss  Mary  thought  that 
she  was  sleeping,  a  whisper  was  heard  in  the  deep  stillness 
calling: 

"Pufhe!    PufHe!" 

Miss  Mary  raised  the  little  dog  from  a  neighboring  chair 
and  gave  him  to  her.  Cara  took  him  in  her  burning  hands, 
but  soon  she  pushed  him  away  with  the  same  kind  of  slow 
gesture  with  which  she  had  thrown  down  the  flowers,  turned 
her  face  toward  the  wall,  and  then  whispered: 

"  No." 

Next  morning  the  faces  of  the  "  wise  ravens "  were  very 
gloomy.  Those  who  flew  in  from  the  neighborhood,  and 
those  who  came  from  a  distance  took  on  more  and  more  that 
mysterious  solemnity  which  reminds  one  of  death-bells. 

But  Darvid  waited  yet;  he  did  not  lay  down  his  arms;  he 
did  not  lose  faith  in  the  power  of  the  good  giantess.  He 
waited  for  a  new  reinforcement.  This  was  the  greatest  medi- 
cal name  in  all  Europe,  that  of  a  man  who  had  the  fame 
almost  of  one  who  worked  miracles.  Here  again  was  a  moun- 
tain of  gold,  and  of  intellect  piled  up,  the  highest  mountain 
among  ail  of  them. 

In  the  blue  drawing-room  a  suppressed,  many-tongued 
murmur  was  heard.  Servants  bore  about  food  and  drink. 
Darvid  gave  cigars  to  his  worthy  guests,  the  most  worthy  of 
all,  he  who  had  just  arrived;  listened  with  close  attention 
to  the  explanation  of  his  colleagues  touching  the  case  before 
which  he  was  to  find  himself.  At  last,  calm,  and  perfectly 
correct,  with  a  pleasant  smile  on  his  lips,  a  smile  almost  of 

224 


The  Argonauts 

triumph,  Darvid  indicated  with  a  gesture  full  of  welcome 
the  door  of  his  daughter's  chamber.  The  most  famous  of 
the  famous  entered  first,  and  stopped  some  steps  from  the 
threshold;  behind  him  stopped  the  others.  On  the  parched 
lips  of  the  sick  girl  appeared  ruby-like  drops  of  blood;  her 
eyes  were  opened  very  widely;  to  her  forehead,  which  was 
damp  from  perspiration,  some  slender  locks  of  pale,  yellow 
hair  adhered.  Throughout  the  room  sounded  in  an  audible, 
hoarse  whisper: 

"Ira!    Ira!" 

Irene  approached  quickly,  and,  bending  over,  removed, 
delicately,  with  a  thin  handkerchief,  the  liquid  rubies  from 
the  lips  of  her  sister. 

"  What  do  you  want,  little  one;  what  do  you  wish?  " 

Cara  fixed  on  her  sister  eyes  in  which  something  un- 
common had  begun  to  take  place,  for  the  dark  pupils  be- 
came larger  every  moment,  and  larger,  more  prominent,  they 
seemed  to  grow  and  to  swell,  as  if  concentrating  into  one 
point  all  power  of  vision,  until  a  glassy  film  began  to  come 
down  over  them,  and  at  the  same  time  her  lips,  sprinkled 
with  blood,  moved  a  number  of  times  wishing  to  pronounce 
something  and  not  being  able.  At  last,  fixing  on  her  sister 
from  behind  the  glassy  film  the  sight  of  her  swollen  pupils, 
Cara,  as  if  in  sign  that  she  understood,  shook  her  head,  and 
with  a  whisper  which  was  heard  through  the  room  with  a 
note  of  alarm  and  complaint,  she  said: 

"  Pain-ted  pots! " 

Then  in  lier  breast  a  great  orchestra  began  to  play:  hoarse, 
discordant,  wheezing,  and  her  head,  grown  suddenly  heavy, 
fell  into  the  pillow  deeply.  From  the  assembly  of  men  stand- 
ing there  at  the  door,  the  most  famous,  the  small  sprightly, 
iron-gray  Frenchman,  with  a  face  greatly  thoughtful,  ad- 
vanced a  few  steps,  stood  at  the  bedside,  and  after  some 

225 


The  Argonauts 

minutes,  with  his  hands  resting  on  the  laboring  bosom, 
cast  into  the  deep  silence  which  possessed  the  room  these 
words: 

"  The  agony! " 

As  if  in  answer  to  that  word,  at  the  very  door,  behind  the 
cloud  of  black  garments,  was  heard  a  loud  hand-clap.  That 
was  Darvid,  who,  with  a  movement  most  unexpected  for 
him,  had  in  this  manner  wrung  his  hands,  intertwining  them 
with  a  strength  which  almost  broke  his  fingers,  and  then 
raised  them  above  his  head. 

So  the  giantess  had  sprung  over  all  the  mountains — and 
had  come! 


226 


CHAPTER  IX 

Feom  street  to  street,  and  from  one  alley  of  the  public 
garden  to  another,  passed  Arthur  Kranitski,  with  the  step 
and  the  mien  of  a  person  who  is  strolling  through  a  city 
without  great  desire  or  object.  In  his  shining  hat  and  well- 
fitting  fur  coat,  on  the  costly  collar  of  which  traces  of  wear 
were  observable,  the  man  seemed  notably  older  and  poorer 
in  some  sort  than  he  had  been  during  a  past  which  was  still 
recent.  In  his  erect  form  and  springy  step  one  might  dis- 
cover that  disagreeable  effort  with  which  people  guard 
themselves  when  they  fear  lest  observers  may  penetrate  their 
sad  secret  in  some  way.  But  despite  every  effort  Kranitski's 
secret  was  manifest  sometimes  in  his  stooping  shoulders, 
drooping  head,  pendant  cheeks,  and  dimmed  glances.  All 
this  was  the  more  evident  since  Pan  Arthur  was  advancing 
in  the  full  gleam  of  the  sun  which  flooded  with  light  the 
sidewalks  of  the  streets  and  the  alleys  of  the  great  public 
garden.  The  end  of  the  winter  had  been  exceptionally  mild 
and  serene,  the  snow  had  almost  melted  away,  and  only, 
here  and  there,  mingled  its  dull  white  with  the  azure  of  the 
sky  and  the  golden  hue  of  the  atmosphere.  While  passing 
multitudes  of  people,  Kranitski  raised  his  hand  to  his  hat 
frequently,  and  at  times,  with  a  smile  which  was  winning, 
nay,  almost  seductive,  he  made  movements  as  if  to  approach, 
or  even  spring  forward  to  those  whom  he  greeted;  but  they, 
with  a  courteous  though  prompt  inclination,  moved  past  the 
man  swiftly.    These  persons  were  stylish  young  gentlemen 

227 


The  Argonauts 

conversing  with  one  another  vivaciously,  or  young  ladies 
hastening  to  some  point.  They  returned  bow  after  bow,  but 
none  took  note  of  Kranitski's  desire  to  draw  near,  or,  at 
least,  none  had  the  wish  to  observe  it.  Each  man  or  woman 
had  some  person  at  his  side  or  hers  with  whom  to  converse, 
and  was  going,  or  even  hastening,  to  some  place.  How  recent 
and  intimate  had  been  his  acquaintance  with  those  persons! 
— he  had  known  them  from  early  childhood.  He  knew 
everything  touching  them:  the  names  and  life-histories  of 
their  parents,  the  nicknames  given  them  in  jest  or  in  tender- 
ness, names  given  at  an  age  when  they  were  barely  lisping. 
He  knew  every  chamber,  almost  every  corner  of  the  houses 
in  which  they  had  been  reared.  He  had  raised  many  of 
them  in  his  strong  arms  from  the  floor — he  who  at  that  time 
was  the  praised,  the  beloved,  the  sought  for.  He  who  had 
amused  and  entertained  them,  was  he,  indeed,  to  imagine 
a  day  when  they  would  pass  him  at  a  distance  and  indif- 
ferently? How  could  he?  He  with  rosy  glasses  on  his  eyes, 
those  eyes  famed  at  that  period  for  beauty,  had  been  given  to 
tenderness  and  attachments;  he  had  considered  the  feelings 
and  relations  of  men  as  eternal.  But  from  various  causes  a 
multitude  of  his  relations  with  people  had  ended  already — 
and  now  they  were  ending  to  the  last  one.  He  had  the  vivid 
sensation  of  hanging  in  a  vacuum,  and  felt  a  growing  need 
to  grasp  after  something  or  someone  lest  he  might  tumble 
into  a  place  which  he  knew  not,  but  which  he  felt  must  be 
abyss-like.  At  the  beginning  of  his  walk  he  thought  that  in 
that  bright  hour  of  the  day  when  throngs  of  gayly-dressed 
people  were  covering  the  sidewalks,  and  the  middle  of  the 
street  was  filled  with  passing  carriages,  some  person  would 
stop  him,  would  invite  him,  would  attend  him  somewhere, 
or  take  him  to  some  place.  What  was  he  to  do  now? 
Whither  was  he  to  go  ?    Baron  Emil,  whose  mediaeval  man- 

228 


The  Argonauts 

sion  had  been  in  recent  days  almost  his  one  refuge  from 
Aveariness  and  lonely  tedium,  had  gone  to  his  estate  to  make 
trijjs  in  various  directions  and  search  in  village  cottages  and 
under  their  roofs  for  remnants  of  art  which  were  genuine 
or  suitable.  He  was  to  return  soon;  but,  meanwhile,  Kranit- 
ski  could  not  sit  in  the  broad  chair  before  Tristan,  who  was 
giving  obeisance  on  the  wall  of  the  chamber  to  Isolde,  nor 
sit  at  the  table  where,  besides  gastronomic  tidbits,  he  found 
conversation  to  which  he  was  accustomed,  nor  in  presence  of 
the  Triumph  of  Death  sweeping  through  the  air  on  bat 
wings,  or  experience  the  tone  of  beyond-the-worldness. 
With  the  departure  of  the  baron  he  lost  the  only  ground 
on  which  he  met  Maryan — that  dear  child.  The  very 
thought  now  of  Maryan,  from  whom  after  so  many  years  of 
life  in  common  he  was  separated,  brought  tears  to  Kranit- 
ski's  eyelids. 

He  took  a  seat  on  a  bench  of  the  garden,  and  wishing  to 
light  a  cigarette  drew  the  golden  case  from  his  pocket.  He 
did  not  light  the  cigarette,  however;  for  there,  beyond  the 
low  paling  near  which  he  was  sitting,  passed  a  splendid  car- 
riage drawn  by  two  horses  and  bearing  servants  in  livery.  In 
that  carriage  sat  a  man  of  thirty  years,  at  sight  of  whom 
Kranitski  pushed  forward  as  if  to  rush  after  him,  as  if  to  fly 
like  the  wind  to  him.  This  young  man  was  the  son  of  Count 
Alfred,  of  him  whom  Kranitski  had  nursed  with  endless 
devotion  during  illness  under  the  sky  of  Italy.  In  those 
days  the  young  man  was  a  child,  and  remembered  little  of 
the  hours  in  which  Kranitski  had  occupied  in  his  family 
the  place  of  the  best  of  friends,  and  somewhat  that  of  the 
most  faithful  of  servants.  Afterward  he  forgot  those  hours 
completely,  and  put  away  by  degrees  "  that  excellent  Kranit- 
ski," who  was  growing  old;  and  tliough  this  Kranitski,  on 
a  time,  had  rendered  some  sort  of  service  to  the  young  man's 

229 


The  Aigonauts 

father,  he  had  been  rewarded  richly  by  resorting  to  the 
house  for  years,  and,  very  likely,  by  loans  of  money  given 
frequently  and  with  no  thought  of  payment.  Very  wealthy 
and  a  frequent  traveller,  Count  Arthur's  son  had  too  many 
affairs  on  his  head,  and  too  many  in  it  to  cherish  any  de- 
sire of  stuflEing  it  further  with  old-fashioned  trumpery. 
Kranitski  soon  observed  this  frame  of  mind  in  the  young 
son  of  his  former  friend  and  protector,  and  he  had  long 
considered  that  house  as  lost  and  its  master  as  a  stranger. 
This  did  not  sadden  him  at  first  over  much,  for  he  had  a 
port,  which  he  entered  with  full  sail  at  all  times.  But  now 
the  passing  sight  of  that  young  man  struck  his  heart  with 
something  which  cut  and  burned  at  the  same  instant.  Ser- 
vices are  forgotten,  ties  are  broken,  the  past  is  rejected;  oh, 
the  ingratitude  of  mankind!  And  still  with  what  delight 
would  he  have  ridden  through  the  streets  of  the  city  on  such 
a  spring  day  in  that  carriage  with  rubber  ties,  bearing  the 
persons  within  it  on  yielding  cushions,  with  the  soft  move- 
ment of  a  cradle.  With  a  still  greater  feeling  of  dehght 
would  he  have  conversed  while  going  with  someone  who  pos- 
sessed the  same  habits,  tastes,  and  relations  which  he  had; 
with  what  vivid  satisfaction  would  he  halt  before  one  of  the 
best  restaurants  of  that  city  to  have  an  exquisite  lunch,  be- 
tween walls  decorated  with  taste,  and  amid  sounds  of  Joyful- 
ness.  But  all  those  things  which  on  a  time  were  as  cheap 
as  good-morning,  are  now  as  remote  and  unattainable  as  the 
blue  sky  above  him. 

In  his  closely  drawn  coat,  and  bent  over  so  much  that  his 
shoulders  took  the  form  of  a  half -circle;  in  his  hat,  from 
beneath  which  black  hair  was  visible  and  a  row  of  furrows 
above  his  dark  brows,  he  gazed  at  the  street  which  stretched 
along  outside  the  paling,  and  in  his  fingers,  covered  with 
Danish  gloves,  he  twirled  the  golden  toy  from  habit.    The 

230 


The  Argonauts 

hat  shone  like  satin  above  his  head,  and  on  the  cigarette-case, 
which  he  twirled  in  his  fingers,  the  sun-gleams  were  cross- 
ing one  another. 

The  street  beyond  that  paling  lay  before  a  square  which 
was  rather  extensive;  this  square  seemed  dominated  by  two 
lofty  buildings,  before  the  ornamented  fronts  of  which  there 
was  a  great  movement  of  people.  Through  the  broad  doors 
of  these  buildings  a  throng  of  men  went  in  and  came  out, 
equipages  stopped  before  them;  on  the  steps  which  led  up 
to  them  halted,  advanced,  decreased,  and  again  increased  a 
crowd  of  figures  clad  in  black,  noisy,  gesticulating,  occupied 
passionately  in  some  work.  No  wonder!  These  were  the 
Ijank  and  the  exchange,  which  stood  with  opposing  fronts, 
and,  with  their  multitude  of  windows,  seemed  to  gaze  eye 
to  eye  at  each  other.  Kranitski  looked  neither  at  these 
piles  nor  the  throng  of  men  circulating  about  them.  He 
had  never  had  anything  in  common  with  activity  in  those 
buildings.  But  all  at  once  he  bent  forward  a  second  time 
and  fixed  his  eyes  on  a  carriage  which  passed  the  paling, 
or  rather  he  fixed  them  on  the  man  sitting  in  it. 

It  was  Aloysius  Darvid  who,  on  that  sunny  day,  was  in 
an  open  carriage  drawn  by  a  pair  of  large,  costly  horses, 
which,  in  light  harness  without  mounting,  stepped  slowly, 
wilh  grace  and  importance.  On  the  box  sat  a  coachman 
and  footman,  in  high  hats  and  immense  fur  collars;  in  the 
carriage,  finished  in  sapphire  damask,  a  man  of  not  large 
stature,  slender,  with  pale  face,  ruddy  side-whiskers,  and 
with  the  glitter  of  a  golden  spark  in  the  glasses  which  cov- 
ered his  eyes.  Slowly,  with  dignity,  the  carriage  with  muf- 
fled sound  of  rubber-bound  wheels  halted  before  the  bank 
entrance.  The  footman  sprang  from  the  box,  stood  at  the 
door,  and  taking  a  card  from  his  master's  hand  hurried  into 
the  building.    Five  minutes  had  not  passed  when  out  came 

231 


The  Argonauts 

two  serious  persons  who  approached  the  carriage  hastily,  and 
began  to  converse  with  the  man  sitting  in  it.  Surely  officials, 
even  dignitaries  of  the  bank,  whom  he  had  summoned  by 
two  words  outlined  on  the  card.  To  go  to  them,  to  ascend 
the  high  steps,  he  had  not  time  perhaps,  so  they  ran  down 
those  steps  to  him.  They  did  not  walk  down,  they  ran,  and 
now,  with  the  most  courteous  smiles  in  the  world  and  with 
raising  of  hats  above  their  important  heads,  these  men 
seemed  to  counsel  with  him  about  something,  to  indicate 
some  point,  to  promise.  While  he,  ever  unchanged,  perfectly 
pohte  though  cold,  with  a  shade  of  sarcasm  on  his  lean  face, 
rather  listened  than  spoke,  and  with  a  golden  spark  in  his 
glasses,  against  a  background  of  bright  sapphire  damask, 
had  the  seeming  of  a  demi-god. 

In  five  minutes'  time  the  conversation  was  over.  Darvid 
inclined  with  befitting  profoundness;  the  officers  bowed 
much  lower  their  hats  above  their  heads.  With  the  muffled 
sound  of  rubber  tires,  with  the  slow  and  important  gait  of 
the  splendid  horses,  that  carriage  moved  on,  described  a  large 
circle  and  stopped  at  the  long  and  broad  steps  leading  up 
to  the  edifice  opposite.  Here  the  footman  opened  the  car- 
riage door;  Darvid  alighted  and  began  to  ascend  the  steps 
where  a  dense  throng  of  men,  dressed  in  black,  opened  before 
him  as  a  wave  opens  to  an  oncoming  vessel.  That  must  be 
no  common  craft;  for,  along  the  wave  of  men,  quivers  passed 
as  they  pass  through  one  living  organism  at  the  touch  of  an 
electric  current.  The  opening  throng  formed  eddies,  whis- 
pered, was  silent;  a  number  of  hands  were  raised  toward 
heads,  and  hats  or  caps  hung  in  the  air;  a  multitude  of  faces 
were  turned  toward  that  one  face,  and  fixed  their  eyes  on  it. 
These  movements  had  in  them  an  expression  of  timid  curi- 
osity, an  expression  which  seemed  almost  humble.  The  most 
confident  stepped  forth  from  the  throng  with  bared  heads, 

333 


The  Argonauts 

and  with  steps  which  were  either  too  slow  or  too  hurried,  but 
never  such  steps  as  they  made  habitually.  These  men  ap- 
proached the  newly  arrived  and  spoke  to  him  of  something; 
they  were  doubtless  inquiring,  taking  counsel,  perhaps  peti- 
tioning; for  all  those  acts  were  expressed  in  their  movements, 
and  on  their  faces.  Thus  was  formed  something  like  that 
retinue  of  the  elite  who  surround  a  demi-god,  and  between 
the  two  walls  of  people,  along  the  splendid  steps  of  the  stair- 
way they  went  up  with  him  higher  and  higher  to  the  en- 
trance of  the  temple,  and  vanished  there  with  him.  The 
heads  of  the  common  crowd  were  covered  with  hats  and  caps 
now,  but  many  eyes,  unable  to  gaze  on  Phaeton  himself,, 
turned  to  his  chariot,  and  were  fixed  for  a  long  time  yet  on 
its  sapphire-colored  damask,  which  was  warmed  by  the  sun- 
rays,  and  on  those  two  splendid  animals  which,  standing 
there  in  trained  fixedness,  seemed  like  bronze  steeds  of  the 
sun  before  the  gates  of  that  money  mart. 

Kranitski,  sitting  on  the  garden  bench,  had  grown  rigid 
in  the  posture  described  above — his  mouth  awry,  his  eyes 
gleaming.  So  this  is  what  has  happened!  In  a  few  weeks 
after  the  death  of  the  hapless  Cara  he  is  active  and  tri- 
umphant; he  hurls  his  lariat  on  the  golden  calf  and  captures 
new  millions.  A  demi-god!  A  Titan!  The  king  of  markets! 
He  sweeps  forward  in  seven-league  boots  over  roads,  at  the 
crossing-points  of  which  are  Americans  with  milliards,  they 
are  millionnaires  no  longer,  but  masters  of  milliards,  lie 
is  the  man  who,  as  Baron  Emil  said,  knows  how  to  will. 

Still,  how  small  he  seemed  and  devoid  of  desire  at  the 
Iviur  when  he  stood  near  the  corpse  of  his  daughter,  joined 
with  the  silent  smoke  of  the  censer,  which  rose  like  light 
mist  in  the  air.  How  petty  he  appeared  at  that  juncture, 
crushed,  as  it  were,  by  some  giant  hand — not  a  demi-god  in 
any  sense,  or  a  Titan,  but  rather  an  insect,  pushing  into 

233 


The  Argonauts 

some  narrow  cranny  to  hide  from  a  bird  of  prey.  Kranitski 
had  seen  Darvid  then,  for,  on  hearing  of  the  misfortune, 
no  power  on  earth  or  in  hell  could  have  stopped  him  from 
running,  from  flying  to  the  house  where  it  had  happened. 

That  misfortune  had  pierced  his  heart.  And  straightway 
he  felt,  also,  those  inward  and  other  pains  which  for  some 
time  had  attacked  him  without  pity  and  more  frequently; 
but,  in  spite  of  his  pains,  he  ran  on  without  a  thought  that 
he  had  been  forbidden  that  house,  or  a  thought  of  what 
might  meet  him  within  it.  He  entered,  and  by  well-known 
ways  went  directly  to  the  chambers  of  the  lady.  Happen 
what  might,  he  must  see,  in  such  a  terrible  moment,  that 
woman,  that  saint,  that  mild  and  noble  being.  She  was 
surrounded  by  many;  there  was  a  throng  of  people  about 
her,  but  he  did  not  see  who  they  were,  nor  did  he  think 
what  they  might  say  of  him.  Before  his  eyes  was  a  mist 
which  veiled  all  things  in  front  of  him,  save  the  face  of  that 
woman  so  dreadfully  changed  and  grown  old  recently;  that 
woman  who  no  longer  had  the  bright  aureole  of  pale,  golden 
hair  above  her  forehead,  but  on  that  forehead  and  across  the 
whole  width  of  it  was  the  dark  furrow  of  a  deep  wrinkle. 
Without  seeing,  or  greeting  a  person,  he  walked  up  to  her 
directly,  and,  dropping  on  his  knees,  pressed  to  his  lips  the 
hem  of  her  mourning  garment.  He  did  this  without  the 
trace  of  a  plan,  without  forethought;  he  did  it  through  an 
impulse  which  threw  him  at  the  feet  of  the  woman.  That 
action  came  from  his  heart,  and  from  his  heart  only.  For 
never  was  anyone  like  her,  he  thought.  Many  a  time  he  had 
had  fortune  with  women.  In  life  he  had  been  loved,  and 
had  loved  in  various  fashions,  but  as  he  had  loved  her,  never 
had  he  loved  woman. 

He  did  not  remember;  he  was  unconscious  of  what  hap- 
pened after  that;    but  it  seemed  that  Irene  seized  in  her 

234 


The  Argonauts 

arms  the  loudly  weeping  lady;  that  Maryan  was  there 
also,  and  many  other  persons,  who,  going  in  and  passing 
out  with  silent  tread  and  low  words,  produced  a  sound  some- 
thing like  the  rustle  of  leaves  when  they  are  falling.  In 
some  corner  of  the  chamber  he  sat  down,  or  stood  up,  he 
cannot  tell  which,  he  only  remembers  that  he  was  sur- 
rounded by  the  odor  of  alder-blossoms  which  filled  the  cham- 
ber, till,  finally,  he  felt  that  it  was  late,  that  he  had  to  go 
out  just  as  had  others.  He  could  not  be  with  that  beloved  be- 
ing in  her  suffering;  of  all  pains  that  was  the  most  unen- 
durable. But  life  contains  sometimes  such  cruelties.  Life 
at  times  is  atrocious!  He  went  once  again  to  look  at  the 
"  little  one,"  he  saw  her,  and  with  her  the  demi-god,  in  such 
a  position  that  he  thought:  Here,  too,  is  a  man  who  is  ended! 
At  this  point  of  meditation  Kranitski  rested  his  elbow  on  the 
arm  of  the  bench,  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  palm,  and  placed 
before  his  imagination  that  wonderful  sight  which  seemed  a 
fable,  a  dream  to  him. 

What  luxury,  what  originality  of  thought  and  taste!  What 
a  mountain  of  gold  was  poured  out  there!  The  plan  and  the 
taste  were  seemingly  Maryan's.  The  grand  drawing-room 
had  been  turned  into  a  grotto,  which,  from  floor  to  ceiling, 
was  covered  with  soft  folds  of  white  crape  and  muslin,  meet- 
ing above  in  a  gigantic  rosette  resembling  the  mystic  four- 
leafed  roses  painted  on  Gothic  church-windows,  save  that 
this  one  at  which  the  wavy  drapery  met  and  hid  walls  and 
ceiling  was  as  white  and  soft  as  if  formed  by  the  fantastic 
play  of  cloud  substance.  But  everything  in  that  chamber, 
the  walls,  the  arch,  the  rosette,  seemed  made  up  of  clouds 
and  of  snow,  on  which  had  fallen  an  immense  rain  of  white 
flowers,  white  only.  In  garlands,  woven  together,  or  cast 
about  without  order  by  the  movement  of  hands,  they  clung 
to  the  walls  and  the  vault,  covered  the  floor,  were  scattered 

235 


The  Argonauts 

over  everything,  were  visible  everywhere,  and  seemed  to  have 
fallen  out  of  every  place.  Aside  from  them  and  among 
them,  there  was  nothing  but  abundance  of  light;  stars, 
bunches,  columns  were  formed  of  lights,  burning  in  branch- 
holders  and  candlesticks.  It  is  unknown  where  they  were 
invented,  so  uncommon  were  these  holders  and  candlesticks, 
so  fantastic.  They  were  so  peculiar  in  style  that  it  would 
seem  as  if  they  had  been  brought  from  the  dream-world  of 
an  excited  fancy  to  the  world  of  existence.  There  was  no 
color,  no  tinsel,  no  emblem  of  death,  nothing  in  that  sea  of 
snowy  whiteness  save  an  avalanche  of  snow-covered  flowers 
and  the  dazzling  gleam  of  burning  tapers,  with  the  odor  of 
lilics-of-the-valley,  roses,  alder-blossoms,  hyacinths,  to  which 
was  added  incense  of  some  kind,  as  peculiar  as  was  every- 
thing in  that  chamber.  This  incense,  burning  it  was  un- 
known in  what  place,  sent  hither  and  thither  through  the 
air,  from  time  to  time,  small  grayish  cloudlets  of  smoke 
amid  the  gleam  of  the  lights  and  tinged  by  the  gold  of  them. 
In  that  chamber  were  virginity,  with  an  atmosphere  of  mys- 
ticism, inventiveness  unwilling  to  recognize  the  impossible — 
a  chapter  of  magic,  a  strophe  of  a  poem,  and  in  it,  as  a  cen- 
tral point  for  all  else,  was  the  slender  form  of  Cara  on  a 
lofty  place,  fallen  asleep  calmly,  arrayed  as  in  a  bridal  robe, 
with  her  delicate  face,  which,  in  the  pale,  golden  hair,  with  a 
shade  of  whiteness  barely  discernible,  emerged  from  the 
flood  of  snowy  crape  and  flowers.  In  that  flood  of  snowy 
white,  in  that  gleaming  brilliance  of  the  tapers,  in  that  rich- 
ness of  intoxicating  odors,  in  that  atmosphere  of  haze  mov- 
ing from  the  burning  censer,  Cara  was  sleeping  calmly,  with 
the  smooth  arches  of  her  dark  brows  below  the  Grecian  out- 
line of  her  forehead;  on  her  closed  lij)s  was  a  smile  which 
was  almost  gladsome. 

It  must  have  been  late  at  night  when  Kranitski  rose  from 
236 


The  Argonauts 

his  knees  and  found  himself  alone  in  that  chamber.  Out- 
side the  words  and  prayers  of  watchers  were  heard  murmur- 
ing beyond  the  doors  and  the  walls,  but  there  the  sleep  of 
death  seemed  to  reign  alone.  After  a  while,  however,  some- 
thing rustled  near  one  of  the  walls,  Kranitski  looked 
around  and  saw  a  man  who  seemed  at  first  to  be  an  un- 
defined patch  on  the  snowy  background.  After  a  few  sec- 
onds he  recognized  Darvid's  features  in  ruddy  side- whiskers, 
but  he  strained  his  eyes  rather  long  inquiring  whether  he 
was  not  mistaken.  Neither  sorrow  nor  despair,  commonly 
roused  by  death  in  the  living,  but  something  still  greater 
and  beyond  that  was  depicted  in  the  look  and  the  posture 
of  Darvid.  His  eyes,  usually  so  clear,  so  positive,  so  like 
glittering  steel,  had  in  them  now  an  abyss  of  thought  at 
the  bottom  of  which  terror  was  secreted,  while  the  form  of 
the  man  seemed  shrunk  and  crushed  down.  Neither  irony, 
nor  energy,  nor  bold  certainty  of  self  was  in  it  now.  He 
looked  smaller  than  usual,  and  in  the  manner  of  bending 
his  head  forward  there  was  something  of  the  vanquished. 
The  soft  folds  at  which  he  stood  surrounded  him  in  such 
a  way  tliat  he  seemed  flattened  and  recalled  definitely, 
like  an  insect  in  flight  which  was  trying  to  push  through 
a  narrow  crack  to  escape  before  something  immense  which 
was  swooping  down  suddenly.  He  turned  his  eyes  toward 
Kranitski,  recognized  the  man,  and  casting  an  indifl^erent 
glance  at  him,  gazed  again  in  another  direction  at  the 
enormous  something.  He  had  no  feeling  of  hatred,  or  con- 
tempt, or  ofl'ence.  Kranitski  on  his  part  had  none  of  those 
feelings  either.  He  thought  that  various  tales  and  dramas 
represent  mortal  enemies  who,  in  moments  like  that,  reach 
their  hands  to  one  another  and  are  reconciled.  Pathos  is 
not  truthful!  It  has  no  sufficient  reason.  What  are  men's 
quarrels  or  agreements  in  presence  of — this?     He  looked 

237 


The  Argonauts 

a  little  loager  at  the  maiden  sleeping  under  the  shower 
of  white  blossoms,  and  whispered:  "Death!  yes,  yes! 
death!  eternal  sleep! "  then,  with  drooping  head,  he  went 
forth  from  that  grotto,  which  was  snow-white  and  gleaming 
with  lights.  He  was  so  broken  that  he  dragged  himself 
out  of  it  rather  than  walked. 

Now,  on  the  bench  of  the  garden,  Kranitski  raised  his 
face  from  his  palms  and  looked  at  the  exchange.  The  porch 
with  its  broad  steps  was  empty,  but  Darvid's  carriage  was 
there  yet,  showing  a  spot  of  gleaming  sapphire  in  the  sunny 
air,  the  horses  stood  in  trained  fixedness,  like  statues  cast 
from  bronze.  Kranitski's  lips  were  awry  with  distaste. 
With  a  bitterness  to  which  his  mild  nature  came  rarely,  he 
whispered: 

"  Labor!  iron  labor!  " 

With  lips  full  of  gall,  not  thinking  now  of  straightening 
his  shoulders  or  giving  his  steps  an  appearance  of  elasticity, 
he  dragged  along  from  street  to  street,  halting  sometimes  for 
a  moment  before  the  gates  of  the  grandest  houses.  Each  one 
of  these  reminded  him  of  something,  of  some  brilliant  or 
happy  moment,  of  some  fragment  of  the  past.  This  one  he 
had  entered  while  going  to  one  of  the  smaller  or  greater 
"  stars  of  his  existence;  "  out  of  that  one  he  had  gone  when 
taking  the  ailing  Count  Alfred  to  Italy;  through  this  one 
he  had  hurried  daily  to  do  some  kindness  for  Prince  Zeno; 
that  one  brought  to  him  the  memory  of  a  certain  ball,  so 
brilliant  that  it  bordered  upon  fairy-land.  Now  all  these 
gates  and  those  mansions  are  for  him  like  that  hall  which 
guests  have  deserted,  in  which  the  lights  are  extinguished, 
and  through  which  a  man  finds  his  way  with  a  night-lamp 
— remembering,  as  he  passes,  a  spot  where  had  gleamed  the 
naked  shoulders  of  a  beauty;  or  another,  where  the  faces 
of  joyous  comrades  had  smiled  at  him;    a  third,  where 

238 


The  Argonauts 

had  risen  the  odor  of  flowers,  or  the  odor  of  roast  pheas- 
ants. 

At  last,  late  in  the  afternoon.  Mother  Clemens  heard  a 
ring  in  the  antechamber,  and  ran  along  the  floor  in  her 
clattering  old  overshoes,  hastening  to  answer  the  door-bell. 
On  her  broad  shoulders  was  a  barred  kerchief,  in  her  hand 
was  a  needle  with  a  thick  thread,  and  above  her  eyes,  now 
growing  dim,  a  second  pair  of  eyes,  which  were  glass,  in 
spectacles  raised  to  the  woman's  wrinkled  forehead. 

"Hm!"  commenced  she  immediately,  "I  thought  that 
thou  hadst  fastened  for  the  day  in  some  pleasant  company; 
but,  Arabian  adventure!  thou  hast  returned  before  evening. 
This  is  well,  for  guests  have  been  here,  and  they  will  come 
again  shortly." 

"  Guests?  "  inquired  Kranitski,  and  his  face  cleared  some- 
what, but  briefly,  because  Clemens  snorted. 

"  Yes,  one  of  them  was  very  important.  Be  pleased  with 
the  honor!  Berek  Shyldman!  He  said  that  next  week,  as 
God  is  God,  he  would  sell  thy  furniture." 

Seeing,  however,  that  Kranitski,  after  he  had  removed  his 
coat,  dragged  his  feet  through  the  little  drawing-room,  and 
that  red  wrinkles  came  out  above  his  brows,  she  grew  mild 
and  spoke  in  better  humor: 

"  But  thou  mayst  take  delight  in  two  other  guests  who 
came.  Great  dandies,  and  of  thy  company,  though  young 
enough  to  be  thy  sons." 

"  Who  were  they?  who?   who?    Speak,  mother!  " 

"How  can  I  remember  those  Arabian  names?  But  they 
left  cards — wait,  I'll  bring  them  this  minute — I  put  them 
in  the  kitchen." 

She  turned  toward  the  kitchen,  but  right  behind  her, 
stepping  almost  on  her  heels  went  Kranitski,  delighted  and 
impatient,  he  almost  snatched  from  her  hand  two  visiting- 

239 


The  Argonauts 

cards,  on  which  he  read  the  names:    Maryan  Darvid  and 
Baron  Emil  Blaiiendorf . 

"Ah!"  cried  he,  "those  dear  children!  The  baron  has 
returned  then!  And  his  first  thought  after  returning  was 
of  me!    What  a  heart!    I  go;  I  run!  " 

And,  indeed,  he  ran  to  the  door  of  the  antechamber,  radi- 
ant, rejuvenated,  but  Mother  Clemens  stood  in  his  way, 
squaring  out  her  shoulders  in  the  checkered  kerchief. 

"Whither  art  thou  going?  What  for?  Is  it  to  meet 
them  on  the  steps,  or  at  the  gate?  They  said  that  they  would 
come  again  in  an  hour.  To  each  other  they  said  that  they 
would  go  to  see  the  Nazarene " 

"  What  Nazarene  ?  "  asked  Kranitski,  with  astonishment. 
"What  Nazarene?" 

"  But  how  should  I  know  what  Nazarene?  It  may  be  an 
image  of  the  Lord  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  They  only  said  that 
they  would  go  to  look  at  it,  and  come  back  here." 

"  Come  back,"  repeated  Kranitski,  "  that  is  well.  We 
shall  have  a  talk — it  is  so  long  since  I  have  had  a  talk  with 
anyone — and  I  shall  see  Maryan,  the  dear,  dear  boy!  " 

Kranitski  rubbed  his  hands;  he  walked  with  springy  step, 
and  erect  shoulders,  through  the  little  drawing-room,  but 
not  even  delight  could  round  his  cheeks,  which  had  dropped 
during  recent  days  somewhat;  neither  could  it  freshen  the 
yellow  tint  on  them.  Mother  Clemens  halted  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  room  and  followed  him  with  her  two  pair  of 
eyes. 

"  See,  my  lords!  He  is  as  if  born  again,  as  if  called  back  to 
life! " 

He  stopped  confused  before  her. 

"  Knowest  what?  Let  mother  run  for  a  pate  de  foie  gras, 
and  a  bottle  of  liqueur." 

Mother  Clemens  dropped  back  to  the  wall. 

240 


The  Argonauts 

"  Jesus  of  Nazareth!  Hast  thou  gone  mad,  Tulek?  Berek 
Shyldman — thy  furniture " 

"  \Yhat  do  I  care  for  Berek  Shyldman!  What  do  I  care 
for  furniture! "  cried  Kranitski,  "  when  those  noble  hearts 
remember  me " 

"  Hearts  have  no  stomachs;  there  is  no  need  of  stuffing 
something  into  them  the  first  minute." 

"  What  does  mother  know?  Mother  is  an  honest  woman, 
but  her  level  is  earth  to  earth — she  only  thinks  of  this  cursed 
money! " 

"  But  is  pate  de  f  oie  gras  holy  ?    Arabian  adventure !  " 

Both  voices  were  raised  somewhat.  Kranitski  threw  him- 
self on  the  sofa,  pressed  his  right  side  with  his  palm,  groaned. 
Then  Clemens  turned  her  face  toward  him;  she  had  grown 
mild  and  seemed  frightened. 

"  Well,  has  pain  caught  thee?  " 

It  was  clear  that  he  was  suffering.  An  old  affliction  of  the 
liver,  and  something  of  the  heart  in  addition.  Mother 
Clemens  approached  the  sofa  in  her  clattering  overshoes. 

"  Well,  do  not  excite  thyself.  What  is  to  be  done?  How 
much  money  will  that  Arabian  pate  cost?  " 

"  And  the  liqueur!  "  put  in  Kranitski. 

When  he  had  grown  calm  he  explained  that  the  baron 
was  fond  of  liqueur,  and  that  Maryan  was  wild  for  pate  and 
black  coffee. 

"  Let  mother  prepare  black  coffee — thou  knowest  how  to 
do  it  perfectly." 

"  What  more!  "  snorted  she.  *'  Perhaps  it  would  be  well 
to  take  the  panes  from  the  windows,  and  throw  the  stove 
down?" 

Kranitski  spread  out  his  arms. 

"  Why  speak  of  the  Avindow-panes  and  the  stove  ?  What 
meaning  can  the  stove  and  the  glass  have?    There  is  no  com- 

241 


The  Argonauts 

parison  between  black  coffee  and  window-panes^,  or  the  stove. 
Mother  irritates  me." 

Again  his  face  changed  and  he  groaned;  the  old  woman 
surrendered,  but  the  question  of  money  remained.  Kranit- 
ski  took  a  bill  out  of  his  pocketbook,  held  it  between  two 
fingers,  and  thought.  This  is  too  small.  That  kind  of 
liqueur  which  the  baron  drinks  is  very  expensive.  Vexation 
was  evident  on  his  face.    Clemens  spoke  up: 

"  Well,  stop  thinking,  for  if  thou  hast  not  a  rouble  thou 
wilt  not  think  out  one  in  a  hundred  years.  Be  calm.  Only 
write  all  on  a  card  for  me;  I  will  go  and  buy  what  is  needed." 

Kranitski  struggled  on  the  sofa. 

*'  With  what  money  wilt  thou  buy  it,  mother?  " 

But  she  was  already  in  the  doorway  of  the  neighboring 
room,  and  gave  no  answer. 

"  Is  it  with  thy  own?  "  cried  Kranitski,  "  surely  with  thy 
own!  I  know  that  mother  is  spending  her  capital  this  good 
while " 

She  came  back  with  the  checkered  kerchief  over  her  head, 
without  spectacles,  and  ready  for  the  errand. 

"Well,  what  if  I  do  spend  it?  Hast  thou  not  Lipovka? 
Thou  hast,  and  what  I  lend  thou  wilt  return.  Oi,  oi!  I 
stand  with  one  foot  in  the  grave,  and  should  I  fight  about 
a  rouble  when  thou  art  in  need  of  it?  " 

Kranitski  raised  his  hands  and  his  eyes: 

"  What  a  heart!  "  whispered  he;  "  what  attachment!  No 
one  can  equal  the  old  servants  of  our  ancient  families!  " 

After  a  few  minutes  steps  were  heard  in  the  antechamber 
of  people  coming  in,  and  the  fresh  voice  of  a  man  cried: 

"  May  one  see'  the  master  of  this  place  ?  " 

Kranitski  ran  to  the  antechamber. 

"  Of  course,  my  dears!  You  make  me  happy,  altogether 
happy! " 

242 


The  Argonauts 

And  indeed  he  had  the  face  of  a  man  made  happy,  and 
also  filled  with  emotion;  for,  taking  his  place  in  one  of  the 
armchairs  opposite  Maryan,  who  sat  in  another,  he  listened 
to  the  baron's  narrative,  which  gave  details  of  his  recent  ex- 
pedition. 

Baron  Emil  was  uncommonly  vivacious,  but  at  the  same 
time  he  feigned  to  be  more  nervous  and  excited  than  usual. 
He  did  not  sit  down  for  one  instant. 

"  Merci,  merci ! "  said  he  to  the  master  of  the  house  who 
indicated  a  chair  to  him;  "  I  am  in  such  a  condition,  that 
really,  I  cannot  sit  in  one  place.  Something  within  me  is 
toiling,  and  crying,  and  biting.  I  am  full  of  trembling  of 
hopes,  and  of  anger — "  A  brick-colored  rosy  blush  ap- 
peared on  his  yellow  cheeks;  as  usual,  he  spoke  through  his 
nose  and  through  his  teeth,  but  more  quickly  than  common. 
While  walking  through  the  drawing-room  he  said,  that  in 
smaller  and  greater  country  residences  which  he  had  visited 
he  had  found  a  few  remnants  of  former  wealth,  specimens 
of  art,  and  of  ornamental  industry,  which  were  of  consider- 
able, and  sometimes  even  of  high,  value.  A  multitude  of 
these  rich  things  had  been  acquired  by  the  English,  who 
had  circled  about  through  the  country  more  than  once  in 
pursuit  of  them;  but  much  remained  yet,  and  the  only  need 
was  to  inquire,  seek,  examine,  and  it  was  possible  to  find 
real  treasures,  even,  often  most  unexpectedly.  He  halted 
before  Maryan. 

"  I  say  this  because  who,  for  example,  could  hope  or  expect 
to  find  in  possession  of  a  schoolmaster,  a  teacher  of  geog- 
raphy, an  absolute  Arcadian,  a  picture  by  Steinle  hung 
behind  a  door,  smoked  befouled  by  flies — an  undoubted, 
a  genuine  Steinle — Edward  Steinle " 

"  But  is  it  undoubted?  "  interrupted  Maryan;  "  once  more 
I  turn  thy  attention  to  certain  traits  which  seem  to  speak  in 
favor  of  Kupelweiser." 

243 


The  Argonauts 

*'  What,  Kiipelweiser!  "  cried  the  baron,  walking  still  more 
quickly  through  the  drawing-room.  "  No  Kupelweiser,  my 
dear;  not  a  shadow  of  a  Kupelweiser.  Kupelweiser,  though 
the  teaclier  of  Steinle  was  considerably  inferior  to  him  in 
drawing — that  firmness  and  elegance  of  outline,  that  har- 
mony of  composition,  that  piety,  that  genuine  compunction 
which  is  dominant  in  the  faces  of  the  saints — that  is  Steinle, 
the  purest  Steinle,  undoubted  Steinle,  whose  collection  of 
cartoons  in  Frankfort " 

"Was  Steinle,  for  I  do  not  recollect,  pre-Eaphaelite?  " 
put  in  Kranitski  timidly,  somewhat  ashamed  of  his  igno- 
rance. 

"  Yes,  if  you  like,"  answered  the  baron,  "  we  may  reckon 
among  the  pre-Eaphaelites  the  German  school  of  Nazarenes. 
But  this  school  is  distinct." 

"  Then  surely  you  examined  this  Steinle  to-day,  my  dears, 
before  you  came  to  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  heard  of  it  by  chance;  we  went  to  examine  it, 
and  imagine,  we  found  this  pearl  in  the  possession  of  an 
Arcadian  who  has  neither  a  conception,  nor  the  shadow  of  a 
conception  of  the  Nazarenes,  or  who  Steinle " 

"  But  perhaps  we  should  pardon  him,"  laughed  Maryan, 
"for  the  Germans  themselves  know  almost  nothing  of 
Steinle,  who  fell  into  disfavor  among  his  successors." 

"  On  the  contrary!  "  exclaimed  the  baron,  "  I  beg  pardon, 
my  dear,  real  judges  always  value  him  highly,  and  he  is 
greatly  sought  for  by  museums.  His  cartoons  when  placed 
at  the  side  of  Overbeck's  Triumph  of  Religion  in  Art  lose 
nothing;  on  the  contrary,  that  compunction  distinguishes 
his  figures." 

"  But  thou  canst  not  compare  him  with  Overbeck!  "  said 
Maryan,  with  indignation, 

"  I  can,  I  can!  I  make  him  equal  to  Overbeck;  and  I  con- 
sider him  superior  to  Fiihrich  and  Veit " 

244 


The  Argonauts 

"  I  will  give  thee  Veit,  but  as  to  Overbeck,  that  marvel- 
lous melancholy  which  fills  the  eyes  of  his  women " 

*'  It  is  earthly,  earthly,  rather  than  that  perfect  expression 
from  beyond  which  is  dominant  in  Steinle's  figures.  In 
this  regard  Steinle  is  the  only  man  whom  we  may  compart 
with  Fra  Angelico " 

"  I  would  rather  compare  him  with  Lippo-Mani." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  baron,  half  agreeing,  "  as  Flihrich, 
whenever  I  look  at  him,  reminds  me  of  Buffalmaco." 

"  And  me,  of  Piero  di  Cosimo." 

"  No,  no,"  objected  the  baron,  "  Piero  di  Cosimo  in  color- 
ing is  different  from  Flihrich  and  Buffalmaco." 

"  I  can  compare  Buffalmaco,  to-day,  with  Eossetti  alone." 

In  this  manner  they  conversed  some  time  longer  of  the 
Italian  painters  of  the  epoch  preceding  Eaphael,  and  of 
their  modern  followers.  At  times  disputing  slightly;  at 
times  growing  enthusiastic  in  company,  till  they  agreed  in 
one  opinion;  namely,  that  the  greatest  master  of  painting, 
whom  it  was  impossible  to  compare  with  anyone  among  con- 
temporaries, was  Dante  Gabriel  Eossetti,  an  Englishman,  but 
that  the  school  of  German  Nazarenes,  to  which  Overbeck, 
Steinle,  Flihrich,  and  others  belonged,  was,  in  spite  of  cer- 
tain inequalities  and  weaknesses,  altogether  pure  Quairo- 
cento. 

"Yes,  Quatrocento"  finished  the  baron;  "who  knows 
even  if  they  are  not  purer,  more  perfect  Quatrocento  than 
Eossetti  and  Morris." 

Kranitski  listened,  spoke  rarely,  while  something  witliin 
him  began  to  weep.  He,  too,  loved  art,  but  how  far  was  he 
now  from  its  loftiest  caprices.  How  much  would  he  give  if 
those  dear  boys  there,  those  noble  hearts,  would  speak  of 
something  else  to  him,  of  something  nearer.  After  a  time  ho 
remarked  with  a  smile  to  which  he  brought  himself  with 
effort: 

245 


The  Argonauts 

"  Then  you  have  the  first  parts  of  that  golden  fleece  which 
you  are  to  bear  beyond  the  sea  ?  " 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!"  laughed  the  baron,  "the  golden  fleece! 
splendidly  said!  In  truth,  we  shear  the  sheep,  or,  if  you 
like,  the  shepherds,  for  you  cannot  imagine  what  a  rheuma- 
tism of  thought  in  this  matter  prevails  throughout  the  coun- 
try. No  man  knows  the  value  of  what  he  has;  no  man 
knows  what  he  possesses.  There  is  no  conception  of  art;  no 
aesthetic  knowledge.  In  my  journey  I  felt  as  if  wandering 
through  ancient  Scythia.  All  are  related  to  me,  or  are  old 
neighbors  of  my  parents;  they  greeted  me  with  open  arms. 
Kisses  with  saliva,  and  chops  cooked  in  buckwheat-grits! 
Their  rooms  are  filled  with  progeny,  who  look  as  though 
they  might  grow  up  without  trousers.  The  parents  we  may 
almost  call,  now,  the  shirtless.  From  this  cause  comes  a 
genuine  fury  of  turning  all  things  to  money.  My  proposi- 
tion brought  to  their  eyes  tears  of  gratitude.  They  saw  in 
me  a  saviour.  Had  I  wished,  I  might  have  won  the  glory 
of  a  patriot  bringing  salvation  to  his  countrymen.  But 
glory  is  a  painted  pot.  I  am  not  a  man  to  be  covered  with 
labels.  I  buy  cheap  to  sell  dear,  that  is  my  game.  And, 
though  I  told  them  this,  they  kissed  me.  I  filled  their 
mouths,  which  were  suffering  from  that  hunger  which  goes 
before  harvest.  They  opened  old  cupboards  before  me,  also 
storehouses;  one  man  even  opened  a  chapel  in  which  I 
found  church-cloths  of  incomparable  antiquity.  I  suspect 
that  one  of  these  is  of  Flemish  make,  and  reaches  back  to 
Eobert  the  Pious,  just  such  a  one  did  I  see  in  the  museum  at 
Cluny.  Finally,  a  number  of  images;  some  girdles  and  bro- 
cades; some  old  weapons,  which  would  befit  John  of  Dres- 
den very  well;  this  is  my  booty.  Here  we  have  discovered 
one  Overbeck  and  one  Steinle;  but  Maryan,  during  my 
absence,  found,  somewhere,  Saxon  porcelain,  of  incredible 

246 


The  Argonauts 

age,  in  perfect  preservation.  But  this  is  only  the  beginning. 
There  will  be  a  whole  harvest  of  these  things,  a  whole  har- 
vest! " 

"  A  golden  fleece!  "  whispered  Kranitski. 

He  grew  more  and  more  gloomy,  and  felt  in  his  right 
side  a  pain  which  was  well-nigh  unendurable.  The  tone  in 
which  the  baron  gave  account  of  his  journey  in  regions  about 
his  birthplace,  roused  almost  instinctive  disgust  in  Kranitski. 
He  looked  at  Maryan.  Was  he  the  same  also?  After  a 
while  he  asked: 

"  Has  the  American  project  crystallized  thoroughly?  Is 
it  settled?    Are  you  going  to  America  surely?  " 

"  It  has  crystallized  this  far,"  answered  Maryan,  "  that  I 
start  no  later  than  to-morrow.  Emil  will  remain  here  some 
weeks  yet.  I,  to  become  acquainted  with  the  people  and  the 
country,  leave  here  to-morrow." 

Kranitski  straightened  himself  and  sat  there  dumb  for  a 
time,  with  fixed  look,  then  he  repeated: 

"  To-morroAV  ?  " 

"Absolutely,"  confirmed  Maryan;  and,  when  the  baron 
sat  down  after  long  walking,  he  rose,  and  began  in  turn  to 
walk  through  the  drawing-room,  declaring  that  he  had  come 
to-day  purposely  to  take  farewell  of  Kranitski. 

"  I  could  not  go  without  taking  farew^ell  of  my  good,  old 
man,"  said  he. 

It  may  be  that  he  would  not  have  gone  so  soon  had  not 
certain  details  made  his  life  impossible.  One  of  these  de- 
tails was,  that  the  week  before  his  father  had  withdrawn  the 
allowance  paid  up  to  that  time.  A  certain  period  had  ended 
just  a  week  earlier,  and,  through  commands  from  above,  the 
treasury  had  withheld  payment. 

In  speaking  of  this  Maryan  grew  red  in  the  face;  the  vein 
in  his  forehead  swelled  like  a  blue  cord;  his  eyes  glittered 

247 


The  Argonauts 

brightly.  He  was  wounded  to  his  innermost  heart  by  the 
last  conversation  which  he  had  had  with  his  father.  It 
was  brief,  but  decisive;  he  had  told  it  to  Kranitski.  From 
the  narrative  it  was  possible  to  divine  that  Darvid  had 
shown  at  first  an  inclination  to  milden  the  demands  on  his 
son,  but  afterward  despotic  habits  and  practical  views  had 
won  the  victory.  He  demanded  that  in  one  of  the  factories 
belonging  to  him,  Maryan  should  begin  a  course  of  self- 
restraint,  obedience,  and  labor. 

"  Our  two  individualities,"  said  Maryan,  "  came  into  col- 
lision, and  sprang  back  in  a  state  of  complete  inviolability — 
not  the  least  dint  was  made  on  him  or  on  me.  Our  wills  re- 
mained unbroken.  He,  of  course,  is  a  man  with  a  mighty 
will.  It  seemed  at  first  that  the  death  of  that  poor  little 
Cara  crushed  him,  but  he  straightened  quickly,  and  now 
again  he  is  going  through  genuine  orgies  of  his  iron-  labor.  I 
admire  that  integrity  of  will  in  him,  and  I  confess  that  it  is 
a  power  of  the  highest  quality;  but  I  have  no  thought  of 
abdicating  my  own  personality  because  my  father,  with  all 
his  undoubted  endowments,  has  a  head  badly  ventilated.  It 
may  be  that  one  of  my  great-grandfathers  said,  that  if  one 
child  gave  itself  as  food  to  worms,  another  should  give  itself 
to  be  crushed  by  its  father's  chariot.  But  I  am  not  my  own 
great-grandfather,  and  I  know  that  every  yielding  of  one's 
self  to  be  tormented  by  Pavel  to  amuse  Gavel  is  a  painted 
pot." 

"  It  is  a  darned  sock!  "  added  the  baron. 

Another  reason  why  Maryan  had  to  leave  the  city  with- 
out delay  was  the  impression  produced  on  him  by  the  death 
of  that  poor  little  girl.  But  he  did  not  admit  that  so  many 
atavistic  instincts  were  at  work  in  him.  He  was  a  man  of 
the  new  style,  but  he  experienced  now  the  spiritual  con- 
dition of  his  great-grandfather,  which  affected  him  so  that, 

248 


The  Argonauts 

like  Maeterlinck's  Hjalmar,  he  wished  to  throw  handfuls  of 
earth  at  night-owls.  The  death  of  that  little  one,  and  all 
that  was  happening  and  going  on  in  the  house,  had  made 
his  soul  pale  from  weakness.  He  understood  now  Maeter- 
linck's expression,  to  sink  to  the  very  eyelids  in  sorrow. 
When  that  Intruder,  who  is  ever  mowing  grass  beneath  life's 
windows,  came  for  that  little  girl,  Maryan  had  the  question 
in  mind  continually:  "  Why  do  the  lamps  go  out?  "  Now, 
like  Hjalmar  in  "  Princess  Malenia,"  he  feels  every  moment 
like  exclaiming:  Someone  is  weeping  here  near  us!  He 
had  moments  in  which  such  nervous  impotence  attacked  him 
that  he  did  not  feel  capable  of  stirring  a  finger,  or  moving 
an  eyelid.  Accompanying  this  condition  was  a  perfect 
understanding  that  all  sentimental  family-tenderness  is  a 
painted  pot.  It  is  known,  of  course,  that  in  the  world  a  mul-i 
titude  of  maidens  are  always  dying;  that  each  life  is  a  gate 
before  which  grave-diggers  are  waiting;  and  that  this  does 
not  furnish  the  slightest  reason  why  those,  under  whose 
window  the  Intruder  has  not  begun  to  mow  grass  yet,  should 
have  pale  and  sickly  souls. 

He  must  flee  from  expiring  lamps,  and  night-owls;  from 
nervous  impotence  and  spleen  of  spirit;  he  must  rush  out 
for  new  contacts  and  horizons;  for  new  spaces,  where  there 
arc  fresh  worlds  which  are  free  from  the  fifty  defilements 
of  past  centuries. 

He  concluded  and  took  a  seat.  Kranitski  had  tears  in  his 
eyes,  and  after  a  rather  long  silence,  he  added: 

"  Thou  art  going  away  I  see!  " 

And  then,  with  hesitating  voice,  he  inquired: 

"  Thou  hast  said:  '  that  which  is  happening  and  going  on 
in  the  house.'    What  is  going  on  there?  " 

To  this  the  baron  answered,  with  growing  blushes: 

"How?  Do  you  not  know  that  Pani  Darvid  and  Panna 
Irene  set  out  in  a  few  days — for  a  retreat?  " 

349 


The  Argonauts 

"  To  Krynichna,"  said  Maryan,  completing  the  informa- 
tion. "  Father  has  made  Irene  the  owner  of  Krynichna^  and 
they  are  going  there." 

Kranitski  grew  very  pale,  and  only  after  great  red  spots 
had  appeared  above  his  eyes  did  he  look  at  the  baron,  and 


begin: 


Then- 


"  Then,"  added  the  baron,  quickly,  "  everything  is  ended 
between  Panna  Irene  and  me.  I  am  glad,  for  how  could  my 
bite  and  her  idyl  agree?  That  would  have  been  like  the 
odor  of  ether  on  a  sunny  day  in  Maeterlinck's  hot-houses. 
Naturally,  I  represent  the  ether,  and  Panna  Irene  the 
sunny  day." 

The  smile  with  which  he  said  this  grew  ever  more  Jeering 
and  malicious. 

"  But  I  know  not  how  they  will  succeed  in  the  retreat. 
In  spite  of  her  idyl  Panna  Irene  has  much  in  her,  very 
much  of  the  cry  of  life,  of  that  beautiful  impulse  toward — 
what  Euysbrook  called  love  in  action,  toward  ecstatic  im- 
pressions, and  with  such  a  disposition,  as  far  as  my  skill 
extends  in  this  matter,  it  is  difficult  to  halt  at  the  mere 
spectacle  of  sparrows  making  love  outside  one's  win- 
dow  " 

"  A  truce  to  malicious  phrases,  Emil,"  interrupted  Mar- 
yan.  "  Thou  art  not  threatened  with  the  fate  of  Werther 
because  my  sister  has  broken  with  thee " 

"  Of  course  not!  "  laughed  the  baron. 

And  Maryan  added  quickly: 

"  And  thou  shouldst  even  offer  up  to  her  that  painted 
pot,  called  gratitude,  because  she  has  not  closed  to  thee  the 
road  to  some  daughter  of  a  multi-millionnaire  Yankee. 
America  possesses  men  of  '  iron  toil,'  whose  daughters  are 
far  richer  than  the  daughters — alas!  than  the  only  daughter 
of  my  father," 

250 


The  Argonauts 

"  Perhaps!  perhaps!  "  agreed  the  baron;  "  the  daughters 
of  the  richest  American  fathers  pay  very  high  prices  for  Eu- 
ropean titles.  In  this  way,  or  another,  or  botli  together,  I 
may  make  a  colossal  fortune.  Yes,  wealth  is  a  door  before 
which  the  heralds  of  life  have  their  station — I  am  not  a 
man  pasted  over  with  labels.  I  confess  that  this  perspective 
entices  me;  what  I  possess  now  is  merely  a  little  crumb  for 
my  hunger  of  life.  I  shall  leave  here  greedy  for  new  sen- 
sations and  new  profits — eager  for  love  in  action  and  for 
gain." 

After  a  moment's  silence  Kranitski  whispered: 

"  They  are  going!  " 

Then  glancing  along  the  faces  of  the  two  young  men,  he 
added: 

"  You  are  going!  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  baron,  "  and  therefore  we  make  a  certain 
proposition.  Perhaps  you  would  take  upon  yourself  to  be 
one  of  our  agents." 

He  presented  in  detail  a  plan  of  the  enterprise — to  carry 
out  this  there  would  be  agents  disposed  through  the  whole 
country  to  discover  and  purchase. 

"  We  need  agsthetic  persons,  a  company  of  developed  men, 
and  it  is  difficult,  very  difficult  to  find  them.  In  this  coun- 
try sterility  reigns  throughout  the  whole  region  of  gray  mat- 
ter in  the  brain — it  is  sterility  in  the  great  gray  substance — 
if  you  wish " 

Kranitski  was  silent.  It  was  not  long  since  he  had  desired 
this  position,  perhaps,  and  something  which  might  attach 
him  to  people  and  to  life.  But  now — during  this  discourse 
with  his  two  friends — an  increasing  disgust  had  seized  hold 
of  him.  The  sarcasm  of  the  baron  about  shirtless  parents 
who  kissed  him  with  lips  suffering  from  hunger  before 
harvest  pierced  his  heart  cruelly.    In  his  mind  hovered  the 

251 


The  Argonauts 

words  "departure,  death!"  and  before  his  imagination 
rose  the  vision  of  a  flock  of  birds  flying  in  every  direction. 
To  buy  cheap  to  sell  dear!  That  was  vile!  At  the  same 
time  he  felt  that  the  pains  in  his  side  and  his  heart  had 
grown  keener,  and  a  feeling  of  faintness  possessed  him. 
After  a  moment's  thought,  he  said: 

"  IsTo,  my  dear  friends;  it  seems  that  I  shall  not  be  able 
to  serve  you.  I  am  sick — I  am  growing  old — besides,  my 
dears,  I  must  tell  you  openly " 

He  hesitated,  and  took  from  the  table  his  gold  case,  which 
he  had  opened  before  the  guests.  He  meditated  a  moment, 
and  then  said: 

"  Your  undertaking  has  sides  which  wound  my  sense  of 
propriety  somewhat.  This  business  will  always  be  buying 
in  a  temple,  even  in  temples,  I  might  say,  for  art  is  sacred, 
and  so  is  the  fatherland.  You  are  both  too  clever  to  require 
explanation  on  this  jDoint.  The  loneliness  in  which  I  shall 
be  when  you  are  gone  frightens  and  pains  me — pains  me  im- 
mensely, but  I  am  forced  to  say  that  I  shall  not  be  with  you 
in  this  matter;  no,  decidedly,  I  shall  not  be  of  your  com- 
pany." 

By  nature  Kranitski  was  averse  to  disputes,  and  for  vari- 
ous reasons  unused  to  them,  hence  he  had  begun  to  speak 
with  hesitation  and  dislike;  but  afterward  he  rested  his 
shoulder  against  the  arm  of  the  sofa,  and  with  head  some- 
what raised,  twirling  the  cigarette-case  in  his  hand,  he  had 
the  look  of  a  great  lord,  especially  if  compared  with  the 
baron,  who  always  seemed  somewhat  like  a  mosquito  pre- 
paring to  bite.  And  this  time  he  began  with  a  sneering 
smile : 

"  You  are  always  painted  in  the  color  of  romantic  poetry 
of  sacred  memory.  While  you  were  speaking  I  seemed  to 
be  listening  to  '  a  postillion,  playing  under  the  windows  of 

incurable  patients,'  and " 

253 


The  Argonauts 

Biit  Maryan  rose  from  his  armchair,  and  broke  in: 

"  As  for  me,  I  respect  individuality:  and  since  that  of 
our  beloved  Pan  Arthur  is  developed  in  his  way,  we  have 
no  right  to  insist  on  attacking  him  with  ridicule.  To  be 
ridiculous  proves  nothing.  '  Thou  art  ridiculous,'  is  no 
argument.  I  may  be  ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of  another  man, 
though  right  in  my  own.  But  a  truce  to  discussion;  I  re- 
mind thee,  Emil,  of  our  porcelain " 

"  Yes,  yes!  "  replied  the  baron,  and  he  rose  also,  "  We 
must  take  farewell  of  our  beloved  friend  here " 

At  that  moment,  through  the  open  door  of  the  sleeping- 
room,  entered  Mother  Clemens  with  a  great  tray.  Since 
she  had  gratified  her  favorite  she  wished  to  do  it  in  the  best 
manner  possible.  On  her  head  was  a  cap  as  white  as  snow; 
the  clattering  overshoes  were  no  longer  on  her  feet;  and  a 
checkered  kerchief  was  arranged  neatly,  even  with  elegance, 
across  her  bosom.  On  the  tray  were  small  glasses,  a  bottle 
of  liqueur,  a  pate  de  foie  gras,  and  three  cups  from  which 
rose  the  excellent  odor  of  coffee.  All  this  she  placed  on  a 
table  before  the  sofa,  and  left  the  little  drawing-room  with 
gloomy  eye,  but  firm  foot. 

Kranitski  sprang  up  from  the  sofa. 

"  My  dearest  friends,  I  beg  you — take  a  glass  of  liqueur, 
that  which  thou  lovest,  baron — Maryan,  a  little  of  the  pate 
de  foie  gras " 

But  they  touched  their  watches  simultaneously. 

"No,  no!"  began  the  baron,  refusing,  "we  have  only 
three  minutes  left." 

"  We  lunched  at  Borel's,  who,  as  my  father  says,  gives  us 
Lucullus  feasts." 

Kranitski  did  not  cease  to  urge  them.  Certain  habits  or 
instincts  of  a  noljle  brightened  his  eyes,  and  shaped  his  arms 
in  gestures  of  entreaty.    But  they  resisted.    In  five  minutes 

253 


The  Argonauts 

they  must  be  in  that  apparently  wretched  antiquarian  shop, 
where  Maryan  had  discovered  the  amazing  porcelain.  The 
baron,  giving  his  hand  to  Kranitski  in  parting,  said: 

"  We  shall  see  each  other  again.  You  will  visit  me.  I  do 
not  leave  for  a  number  of  weeks — I  doubt  if  this  porcelain 
comes  from  Meissen  as  Maryan  insists.  In  what  year  was 
the  factory  in  Meissen  ?  " 

"  In  1709,"  answered  Maryan,  and  to  Kranitski  he  said: 

"  Adieu,  my  good  friend,  adieu;  be  well,  and  write  to  me 
sometimes.    Thou  wilt  find  the  address  with  Emil." 

He  turned  to  the  door;  Kranitski  held  him  by  the  hand, 
however,  and  looked  into  his  face  with  eyes  which  were 
mist-covered. 

"  Then  it  has  come  to  this;  for  long  years!  It  may  be 
forever! " 

"  Well,  well!  See,  thou  art  growing  tender,"  began  Mar- 
yan, but  he  stopped,  and  over  his  rosy  face  passed  something 
like  a  shade  of  feeling. 

"  Well,  my  old  man,  embrace  me!  " 

And  when  Kranitski  had  held  him  long  in  his  arms,  he 
said: 

"La!  La .Meave  regrets!  Some  ancient  poet  has  told  us 
that  man  is  a  shadow  that  is  dreaming  of  shadows.  We 
have  been  dreaming,  my  good  friend.  The  only  cure  is  to 
jest  at  every  thing,  come  what  may!  " 

With  these  words,  Maryan  went  to  the  anteroom  and  put 
on  his  overcoat;  meanwhile,  the  baron  said: 

"  That  cannot  have  come  from  Meissen,  nor  be  of  the 
year  1709.  That  is  much  more  recent.  It  comes  from  the 
Ilmenau  factory " 

"  How  so  ?    Say  rather  that  it  comes  from  Frankenthal?  " 

The  baron,  looking  around  from  behind  his  cane,  re- 
marked: 

254 


The  Argonauts 

"  It  is  too  smooth  and  shining  for  such  an  old  date." 

Maryan  answered,  with  his  hand  on  the  lock: 

"  It  is  polished  with  agate." 

And  he  went  out.  But  the  baron,  after  crossing  the 
threshold,  began: 

"  And  as  to  the  ruddy-brownish  biscuit " 

The  door  closed;  the  voices  ceased.  Kranitski  stood 
some  time  in  the  antechamber,  then  he  turned  toward  the 
little  drawing-room,  and  whispered: 

"  "  PoHshed  with  agate  ' — '  Biscuit,'  and  those  are  their 
last  words! " 

Some  minutes  later,  in  a  Turkish  dressing-gown  with 
patched  lining  and  mended  sleeves,  Kranitski  lay  on  his  long 
chair,  opposite  his  collection  of  pipes,  and,  in  deep  thought, 
twirled  his  golden  cigarette-case.  In  vain  did  Mother 
Clemens  urge  him  to  eat  a  little  of  that  Arabian  pate  and 
drink  a  glass  of  liqueur;  he  tried,  but  could  swallow  noth- 
ing. Sorrow  had  closed  his  throat;  he  was  sunk  in  reminis- 
cences. He  felt  with  perfect  tangibleness  that  breath  of 
cold  air  which  was  blowing  around  him.  In  this  manner 
did  Time  blow  on  the  man — Time,  that  merciless  jester,  who 
had  always  circled  about  playing  various  pranks  on  him; 
but  Kranitski  had  never  looked  into  the  face  of  that  jester, 
with  attention.  Occasionally,  sorrow  and  grief  had  come  to 
him  in  company  with  the  trickster,  but  they  were  transient, 
not  of  the  kind  which  go  into  the  depth  of  the  heart,  but 
such  as  slip  along  over  the  surface.  He  grew  gloomy;  was 
sorry  for  having  lost  someone,  or  having  missed  something, 
and  passed  on  with  springy,  lightly  swaying  gait,  with  his 
long  continued  youth,  humming  some  fashionable  ditty;  or, 
with  tender  smile  on  his  lips,  living  easily  and  joyously  in 
endless  pursuit  of  agreeable  trifles.  But,  now,  he  has  the 
first  look  at  Time,  face  to  face  and  near  by.    The  current 

255 


The  Argonauts 

has  borne  away;  the  abyss  has  swallowed;  people,  houses,  re- 
lations, feelings,  and  nothing  comes  back  from  them  but  one 
word  in  a  ceaseless  murmur:  "  Gone!  gone!  gone!  "  That 
which  is  ended  to-day  calls  to  the  man's  mind  all  things 
that  have  been.  That  past  is  to  him  something  in  the  form 
of  a  mighty  grave,  or  rather  a  catacomb,  composed  of  a  host 
of  graves,  through  the  openings  of  which  are  visible  the 
absent;  not  only  those  snatched  away  by  death,  but  also 
those  gone  through  separation,  removal,  oblivion.  Dead 
were  faces  once  dear;  faded  were  moments  once  precious; 
portions  of  life  had  dropped  into  dust;  and  Time,  stand- 
ing before  the  catacomb,  his  cheeks  swollen  in  jeering,  puffs 
his  cold  breath  of  the  grave  on  that  man  who  is  calling  up 
the  past. 

Kranitski  wrapped  himself  closely  in  his  dressing-gown; 
hung  his  head  so  low  that  the  bald  spot,  whitening  on  his 
crown,  became  visible;  his  lower  lip  dropped;  red  furrows 
came  out  above  his  black  brow.  Mother  Clemens  stood  in 
the  kitchen  doorway. 

"  Wilt  thou  eat  dinner  now?  "  inquired  she. 

He  made  no  answer.  She  withdrew,  but  returned  in  half 
an  hour  bringing  a  cup  of  black  coffee. 

"  Drink,"  said  she,  "  perhaps  thou  wilt  grow  cheerful,  and 
I  will  tell  the  news  from  Lipovka." 

She  pushed  a  small  table  to  the  long  chair,  sat  down  with 
hands  on  her  knees,  and  with  immense  attention  in  the  ex- 
pression of  her  quick  and  shining  eyes,  fell  to  repeating  the 
substance  of  a  letter  just  received  from  her  godson,  the 
tenant  of  Lipovka.  He  wrote  that  he  had  repaired  the 
dwelling;  that  he  was  living  himself  in  a  building  outside; 
that  he  had  put  the  place  in  order  most  neatly,  as  if  for  the 
arrival  of  the  owner.  The  furniture  was  the  same  as  in  the 
time  of  the  former  master;  though  old,  it  was  sound  yet,  and 

256 


The  Argonauts 

beautiful,  because  repaired  and  cleaned.  The  garden  was 
larger  than  of  old,  for  many  fruit-trees  had  been  added. 
The  bees,  brought  in  recently,  were  thriving.  It  was  quiet 
there;  calm,  green  in  summer;  white  in  winter;  not  as  in 
that  cursed  city  of  throngs  and  shouting " 

She  laughed. 

"  And  there  is  no  Berek  Shyldman  there." 

Then  she  added: 

"  Be  at  rest  about  debts.  Thou  wilt  sell  thy  pipes  and 
cupids,  and  if  they  do  not  bring  enough,  I  will  give  all  my 
own  things.  All  that  I  have  I  will  give,  and  I  will  drag 
thee  out  of  this  hell.  Oh,  Arabian  adventure!  If  this  lasts 
longer,  thou  wilt  lose  the  last  of  thy  health;  thou  wilt  go 
deeper  in  debt,  and  die  in  a  hospital.  Tulek,  dost  thou 
hear  what  I  say?    Why  not  answer?  " 

And  since  he  made  no  answer  even  then,  she  continued: 

"  But  rememberest  thou  that  Lipovka  grove  beyond  the 
yard?  It  is  there  yet.  Stefan  has  not  cut  it  down;  God  for- 
bid! And  dost  thou  remember  how  beautifully  the  sun  sets 
behind  that  grove?  " 

When  the  sun  had  gone  down  in  the  world  it  began  to  grow 
dark  in  Kranitski's  room.  And  Mother  Clemens  continued 
in  the  thickening  twilight: 

"And  rememberest  thou  how  quiet  the  evenings  are 
there?  In  summer,  the  nightingales  sing;  in  autumn,  the 
bagpipes  play;  in  winter,  God's  winds  rush  outside  the  wall 
and  roar;  but,  inside,  it  is  honest,  and  quiet,  and  safe." 


2J7 


CHAPTER  X 

What  Maryan  had  told  Kranitski  about  Darvid  was  true. 
The  man  was  engaged  in  real  orgies  of  labor.  His  assistants 
and  associates  were  bending  beneath  it,  and  losing  breath; 
he  seemed  more  untiring  than  ever:  Counsels,  meetings, 
accounts,  balances,  correspondence,  discussions  with  func- 
tionaries of  the  government,  of  finance,  and  of  industries, 
banks,  bureaus,  exchanges,  auctions,  etc.  And  in  all  this 
appeared  order,  sequence,  punctuality,  logic,  lending  to  the 
course  of  these  gigantic  interests  the  seeming  of  a  machine 
with  multitudes  of  wheels  moved  by  a  force  elemental,  in- 
vincible. For  even  those  who  had  known  him  longest  and 
most  intimately,  Darvid  had  become  this  time  a  surprise; 
he  had  surpassed  himself.  The  number  of  men  was  con- 
tinually increasing  who  began  to  look  on  him  as  on  a  rare 
phenomenon  of  nature.  Whence  did  the  man  get  such  un- 
common mental  and  physical  vigor?  From  mid-day  till 
hours  which  were  far  beyond  midnight  he  was  unceasingly 
active.  When  has  he  time  to  sleep  and  take  rest  ?  What  is 
he  seeking  to  reach?  What  will  he  reach?  This  last  ques- 
tion brought  out  before  the  imagination  of  men  certain  sum- 
mits of  financial  might,  to  be  reared  to  such  dizzy  heights 
for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  country.  A  giant  of 
mentality  and  energy.    Some  said:    He  is  superhuman. 

But  in  the  immense  number  of  men  connected  with  Dar- 
vid by  a  net  of  most  varied  relations  there  were  some  to 
whom  he  seemed  a  curious  enigma,  representing  a  certain 

258 


The  Argonauts 

inveterate  struggle,  the  motives  of  which  rested  on  the  mys- 
terious bases  of  his  being.  That  hurhng  of  himself  with 
greater  force  than  at  any  time  hitherto  into  the  whirl  of 
occupations  and  business;  that  exertion  to  the  remotest 
hmits  of  the  possible,  directed  toward  one  object  of  thought 
and  energy,  seemed  to  penetrating  eyes,  not  merely  a 
thirst  for  acquisition  and  profit,  but  a  desperate  conflict  with 
something  undiscovered  and  invisible.  At  that  moment  of 
his  life  it  seemed  to  some  that  Darvid  was  like  a  man  run- 
ning straight  forward  and  with  all  his  might,  because  he  felt 
that  were  he  to  halt,  something  awful  would  seize  him. 
Gthers  said,  that  he  called  to  mind  a  man  into  whose  ear 
some  buzzing  insect  had  crept,  and  who  was  hiding  in  a 
factory  filled  with  uproar  which  was  to  drown  the  unendur- 
able buzzing  of  the  insect. 

The  truth  was,  that  Darvid  was  building  at  that  time, 
and  with  iron  labor,  a  wall  between  himself  and  the  giantess 
whom,  for  the  first  time  in  life,  he  had  seen  face  to  face,  and 
very  closely.  It  was  clear  enough  that  he  had  always  known, 
not  merely  of  her  existence,  but  of  this,  that  ihere  was  no 
power  in  the  world  more  familiar  than  that  giantess;  still, 
this  knowledge  of  his  had  been  in  a  comatose  condition, 
something  separated  altogether  from  the  every-day  sub- 
stance of  life,  and  touching  which  there  had  never  been  any 
need  of  thinking.  Someone  dies — a  certain  acquaintance; 
a  comrade  in  amusement;  a  famous,  or  unknown  power  in 
the  world — what  do  people  say?  A  pity  that  he  is  gone! 
or,  no  help  for  it!  Well,  what  influence  can  the  disap- 
pearance of  that  man  exercise  on  a  given  sphere  of  human 
action;  on  the  course  of  men's  relations  and  interests? 
Life,  like  a  rushing  river,  tears  all  living  men  forward,  and 
behind  them,  ever  more  distant,  remains  that  misty  region, 
which  is  filled  with  the  vanished  and  forgotten.    Who  are 

259 


The  Argonauts 

they  who,  at  any  time,  think  of  that  misty  region,  and  look 
at  the  face  of  the  giantess  who  reigns  in  it?  Priests,  per- 
haps, devotees  it  may  be;  a  few  poets  at  times;  or  people 
who  sail  on  a  slow  and  sad  stream  in  life.  Darvid  had 
never  had  time  for  such  thoughts.  The  stream  which  bore 
him  on  was  rushing  and  roaring,  glittering  anc  turbulent. 

But  the  giantess,  because  of  her  power,  sprang  over  all 
golden  mountains — and  came!  He  was  thinking  of  this  at 
the  moment  when  Kranitski  saw  him  standing  at  the  wall 
and  squeezing  into  its  snowy  drapery,  just  as  a  frightened 
insect  might  squeeze  itself  into  a  cranny.  That  was  a  cranny 
in  one  more  of  his  golden  mountains.  In  the  great  city, 
people  had  spoken  with  amazement  of  the  cost,  well-nigh 
fabulous,  of  that  last  chamber  of  the  millionnaire's  little 
daughter.  He  had  means  to  do  that  and  much  more.  What 
are  those  means  to  him?  He  had  vanquished  enormously 
great  things  in  life,  and  he  had  immense  power  at  that  mo- 
ment. But  of  what  use  is  that  power  to  him,  since  something 
has  come  which  he  cannot  overthrow;  something  against 
which  he  can  do  nothing,  and  which  has  struck  him  doubly 
— struck  his  heart  with  pain,  and  his  head  with  anxiety? 
What  virtue  is  there  in  power  which  cannot  shield  a  man 
from  suffering?  And  even  suffering  is  not  important,  since 
man  can  battle  with  it;  but  to  shield  against  annihilation! 
That,  at  which  he  was  looking  then  so  nearly,  was  a  sudden 
and  merciless  annihilation  of  life,  blooming  in  all  its  charm 
and  with  great  fulness.  Something  out  of  the  air,  some- 
thing out  of  space,  and  from  beyond  boundaries  attainable 
by  human  thought,  had  rushed  in  and  trampled  down  that 
life  fresh  and  beautiful.  A  power  invincible — not  to  be 
bribed  by  wealth,  persuaded  by  reason,  or  vanquished  by 
energy.  A  mysterious  power — the  beginning  and  object 
of  which  were  unknown,  which  had  flown  in  on  silent  wings 

260 


The  Argonauts 

and  swept  from  the  earth  everything  that  it  wished  to  take; 
and,  against  this,  there  were  no  means  of  resistance,  or  rescue. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  the  gloomy  rustle  of  giant  wings  was 
filling  that  snowy  chamber  of  the  dead  from  edge  to  edge; 
and,  for  the  first  time  in  life,  he  felt  things  beyond  mankind 
and  the  senses.  His  breast,  which  had  breathed  with  pride; 
his  head,  which  held  one  faith,  the  might  of  reason,  and 
that  which  reason  can  accomplish,  were  struck  now  by  an 
incomprehensible  secret,  which  roused  in  him  for  the  first 
time  a  feeling  of  his  own  inconceivable  insignificance.  He 
felt  as  small  as  an  earth-worm  must  feel  when  on  the  grass 
along  which  it  is  crawling — the  shadow  of  a  vulture  falls  as 
it  sweeps  through  the  azure  sky — and  as  the  worm  hides  in 
the  crack  of  a  stone,  so  he  sank  into  the  snowy  folds  of  crape 
and  muslin  which  veiled  the  walls  of  that  chamber.  He 
felt  as  weak  as  if  he  were  not  a  man  of  strong  will  and 
splendid  labor,  but  a  little  child  which  is  unable  to  push  aside 
with  its  tiny  fingers  the  terror  which  is  standing  out  in  front 
of  it.  With  his  shoulders  and  one  half  of  his  head  sunk  in 
the  snowy  folds,  with  his  glance  fixed  on  the  sleeping  face 
of  Cara,  which  was  visible  among  the  white  flowers,  he  said 
to  her,  mentally:  "  I  can  do  nothing,  nothing  for  thee,  little 
one!  I  can  do  much,  almost  anything;  but  for  thee  I  can 
do  nothing!  "  Slender,  grayish  bits  of  smoke  passed  above 
her  sleeping  face,  and,  impelled  by  invisible  movements  of 
air,  stretched  in  waving  threads  from  her  to  him.  Just  at 
that  moment  he  saw  Kranitski  come  from  an  inner  apart- 
ment of  the  house  and  kneel  at  the  steps  strewn  with  flowers. 
He  looked;  he  recognized  the  man,  and  felt  none  of  those 
emotions  which  his  name  alone  had  roused  in  him  previously. 
What  were  human  anger,  hatred,  disagreement  in  presence 
of  that  immense  something  into  whose  face  he  was  gazing  at 
that  moment?    What  could  Kranitski,  hitherto  hateful  to 

2C1 


The  Argonauts 

Darvid,  be  to  him  now,  when  he  said  to  himself:  "  I  know 
not;  I  understand  not;  it  is  impossible  to  comprehend  this; 
and  still  it  is  real;  since  I — I  can  do  nothing  for  thee,  my 
little  daughter." 

But  this  was  not  the  only  discovery  which  he  was  to 
make  on  that  occasion.  He  knew  not  how  many  hours  he 
had  passed  in  that  chamber,  but  he  saw  the  dawn,  which 
drew  a  blue  lining  beyond  the  snowy  folds  which  covered 
the  windows,  and  then  he  saw  the  sun  which  iiooded  it  with 
molten  gold;  he  heard  clocks  striking  a  number  of  times  in 
a  chamber;  one  of  these  clocks  was  bass,  and  announced  the 
hours  slowly  somewhere  behind  him,  while  another  before 
him  answered  in  a  thinner  and  more  hurried  voice,  till,  all 
at  once,  beyond  the  closed  doors,  in  one  of  the  drawing- 
rooms,  music  was  heard.  Darvid  knew  what  the  meaning  of 
that  was:  another  golden  mountain  which  he  had  reared  for 
the  "  httle  one." 

Much  gold  had  been  poured  out  in  bringing  those  voices, 
the  chorus  of  which  raised  a  hymn  of  prayer  and  sorrow 
above  his  dead  daughter.  But  previously  the  door  was 
opened,  and  the  white  chamber  was  half  filled  with  the  high- 
est of  the  most  brilliant  society  in  that  city,  showing  signs 
of  profound  respect  and  sympathy.  Prince. Zeno  escorted 
Malvina  Darvid,  who  was  all  in  tears  and  black  crape.  Mar- 
yan  brought  in  the  princess.  Irene  entered,  leaning  on  the 
arm  of  a  young  prince,  celebrated  for  beauty;  next  came 
stars  of  these  three  powers:  birth,  money,  and  reputation. 
They  were  not  many,  since  summits  are  always  few  in  num- 
ber; slight  sounds  were  heard  of  bringing,  giving,  and  mov- 
ing chairs;  there  were  whispers  and  the  rustle  of  silk  gar- 
ments. 

Black  silks,  laces,  and  crape;  the  black  dress  of  men  mixed 
with  ghttering  white;    hands  folded  sadly  on  knees,  or 

263 


The  Argonauts 

crossed  on  breasts,  with  seriousness;  faces  sunk  in  thought 
— solemn  stillness.  Meanwhile,  out  of  silence  in  the  adjoin- 
ing chamber,  to  the  accompaniment  of  instrumental  music, 
rose  a  grand  funeral  hymn,  given  by  a  chorus  of  the  most 
famous  artists  in  the  city.  The  solemnity  of  the  mourning, 
with  its  character  of  high  life  and  unusualness,  roused  ad- 
miration for  the  man  who  had  given  such  magnificent  hom- 
age to  his  departed  daughter.  From  out  the  mountain  of 
gold  gushed  a  fountain  of  enchanting  music,  on  which  that 
child  sailed  away  beyond  the  boundaries  of  earthly  exist- 
ence. 

Darvid  did  not  greet  those  who  entered;  and,  for  the  first 
time  in  life,  perhaps,  failed  to  meet  the  demands  of  society; 
they  also,  respecting  a  frame  of  mind  which  they  divined 
in  him,  troubled  the  man  in  no  way.  He  remained  resting 
against  the  wall,  and,  from  a  distance,  resembled  a  silhouette 
outlined  on  it  darkly,  as  on  a  background.  He  looked  on 
the  brilliant  assembly,  from  which  he  was  separated  by  half 
the  chamber,  and  felt  that  he  was  divided  from  those  people 
by  a  space  as  great  as  if  they  were  at  one  end  of  the  world 
and  he  at  the  other  end.  Those  shadows  there  whose  names 
he  knew,  but  who  were  nothing  to  him,  and  he  nothing  to 
them.  They  might  exist,  or  not;  that  was  all  one  to  Darvid. 
Why  had  they  come?  Why  were  they  there?  Never  mind, 
he  knew  only  this,  that  they  did  not  exist  for  him,  as  he  did 
not  for  them.  He  was  struck  by  the  feeling  of  an  immense 
vacuum,  which  divided  him  from  men.  This  vacuum  was 
something  like  a  space  which  the  eye  could  not  take  in,  a 
space  with  two  edges,  on  one  of  which  he  was  found,  and 
they  on  the  other.  They  were  by  themselves,  he  was  by 
himself. 

The  singing  of  the  chorus  rose  in  power,  in  thunders, 
then  became  like  nightingale  voices  heard  in  space,  with 

263 


The  Argonauts 

notes  clear  and  resonant.  Invisible  movements  of  air  passed 
along  the  crapes,  and  the  immense  number  of  tapers,  caus- 
ing the  flames  on  them  to  quiver. 

Darvid  had  not  paid  attention  to  music;  he  had  never  had 
time  to  learn  and  to  love  it;  but  he  felt  that  those  tones 
were  passing  into  his  vitals,  moving  the  secret  strata  of  his 
being,  and  bringing  them  into  movements  unknown  to  him 
till  that  moment.  He  looked  at  Cara's  face,  rising  up  among 
the  white  blossoms,  and  he  thought,  or  rather  felt  that,  while 
those  others  seemed  removed  by  boundless  space,  she  alone 
was  very  near  to  him.  "  Mine!  "  he  whispered.  She  alone. 
He  did  not  know  precisely  how  that  could  happen,  but  men- 
tally he  placed  that  little  head  with  golden  hair  upon  his 
shoulders,  and  said  to  it: 

"Let  us  flee,  little  one!  Thou  didst  ask  me  once  what 
those  people  were  to  me.  Now  I  will  tell  thee  that  they  are 
nothing.  I  do  not  need  them;  they  are  strangers  to  me; 
with  me  they  have  no  relations  whatever;  thou  alone  art 
needful  to  me;  thou  alone,  such  a  sunray  as  I  once  saw 
on  a  journey  and  forgot,  bright  and  warm.  Thou  alone  art 
mine!  Let  us  go;  let  us  flee  together  from  all  and  from 
everyone,  for  everything  and  all  people  are  nothing  to  you 
and  me;  they  are  strange,  and  distant. 

Here  he  remembered  that  never  and  nowhere  would  he 
be  able  to  go  with  her,  or  to  flee  with  her.  He  was  joint 
possessor  of  a  number  of  railroads;  he  had  the  power  to  em- 
ploy for  himself  alone  a  number  of  trains  passing  over  those 
roads;  in  the  East,  on  a  gigantic  river,  his  own  vessels  were 
sailing,  in  clouds  of  steam;  in  one  capital  and  another,  and 
in  this  great  city,  swarms  of  people  inhabited  his  houses^ 
still  he  could  not  take  that  sleeping  girl  by  land  or  by 
water,  to  any  city,  or  to  any  house.  To  his  eyes,  which  were 
raised  toward  her,  a  biting  moisture  began  to  come,  and 

264 


The  Argonauts 

gathered  into  drops,  a  number  of  wliicli  flowed  down  his 
cheeks,  and  were  shaken  in  every  direction  by  quiverings  of 
the  skin. 

But  at  that  moment  appeared  on  his  lips  tlie  smile,  which, 
as  people  said,  was  bristling  with  pin-points. 

"  What  is  this?    Is  it  exaltation?  " 

He  discovered  exaltation  in  himself.  A  few  days  before, 
nay,  down  to  that  very  night,  he  would  have  laughed  at  the 
supposition  that  in  him  it  could  darken  judgment  and  clear 
vision.  He  thought,  however,  that  a  man  is  at  times 
to  himself  the  most  marvellous  of  all  surprises.  Under 
various  influences  forces  spring  up  in  him,  the  presence  of 
which  he  is  farthest  from  suspecting.  Darvid  discovered, 
now  in  himself,  the  thing  most  unexpected :  exaltation.  The 
habit  of  a  life-time;  that  which  he  had  always  considered 
as  an  unshaken  conviction,  rose  now  with  loud  laughter 
at  itself.  Will  he  begin  now  as  a  poet  to  write  a  threnody 
over  his  dead  daughter,  or  like  a  monk  yield  himself  to 
thoughts  about  death?  Misery!  Earlier,  that  word  had  oc- 
curred more  than  once  to  him,  but  only  now  does  it  career 
through  his  head  freely.  Still,  he  will  not  let  exaltation 
master  him.  He  must  stand  erect  and  look  at  things  soberly. 

He  straightened  himself;  removed  his  shoulders  from  the 
wall;  calmed  his  face  and  glance;  by  strength  of  will 
brought  a  greeting  smile  to  his  hps;  and  moved  toward  his 
guests.  The  moment  the  hymn  stopped  he  gave  his  hand 
to  those  present,  in  very  polite  welcome,  and  thanked  them 
with  a  few,  but  pleasant  phrases.  This  was  the  beginning 
of  one  of  those  herculean  struggles,  the  like  of  which  he  had 
fought  many  times  in  the  past.  This,  in  its  farther  course, 
had  an  orgic  of  labor,  which  he  continued  for  a  number  of 
weeks,  and  which  roused  admiration,  or  curiosity,  in  every 
on-looker. 

265 


The  Argonauts 

One  day,  between  his  return  from  the  city  and  the  hour 
of  reception,  he  was  standing  in  the  blue  drawing-room  at 
the  window,  thinking:  What  that  peculiar  movement  was 
which  on  returning  from  the  city  he  noted  while  walking 
up  the  stairway.  Porters  were  bearing  out  articles  of  some 
sort,  which  he  did  not  examine,  but  which  seemed  to  him 
pictures,  and  other  things  also.  Was  Maryan  leaving  the 
house?  Perhaps.  It  was  impossible  to  foresee  what  that 
self-sufficient  and  stubborn  youth  was  capable  of  doing.  But 
whatever  happened  he  would  not  yield,  anJ  he  would  per- 
mit no  longer  that  vain  method  of  life,  with  its  mad  excesses, 
excesses  which  are  costly.  But  in  those  recent  hours  every- 
thing, not  excepting  Maryan,  had  concerned  him  consider- 
ably less  than  before.  Why  was  this?  He  did  not  answer 
that  question,  for  he  heard  a  noise  of  steps,  and  a  whisper: 

"  Aloysius!" 

He  looked  around.  It  was  Malvina  greatly  changed.  Be- 
neath her  hair,  dressed  with  stern  simplicity,  her  forehead 
was  furrowed  with  a  dark,  deep  wrinkle;  the  corners  of  her 
pale  mouth  were  drooping;  on  the  back  of  her  head  a  heavy 
roll  of  hair,  coiled  carelessly,  dropped  to  her  dress  of  black 
material,  which  was  almost  like  the  robe  of  a  religious.  She 
stood  in  the  descending  darkness,  some  steps  from  him.  She 
had  pronounced  his  name,  but  was  unable  to  go  further. 
Her  white  hand,  resting  on  a  small  table,  trembled;  her 
head  was  inclined,  and  she  raised  to  him  eyes  which  were 
dim  but  had  a  painfully  timid  and  anxious  expression.  They 
looked  at  each  other  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  inquired: 

"  In  what  can  I  serve  ?  " 

The  question  was  polite  and  formal.  After  a  moment  of 
hesitation,  or  of  collecting  her  strength,  she  began: 

"  Irene  and  I  are  to  leave  here  in  a  few  days.  It  is  im- 
possible for  me  to  do  this  without  speaking  to  thee,  Aloy- 

266 


The  Argonauts 

sins.  I  have  waited  for  a  convenient  moment,  and  seeing 
thee  here,  I  have  come." 

She  was  silent  again.  She  breathed  quickly,  and  was 
excited.  Standing  toward  her  in  profile,  the  definite  and 
sharp  outline  of  his  face  was  fixed  on  the  background  of  the 
window,  beyond  which  was  darkness;  he  inquired: 

"  What  is  the  question?  " 

She  answered  in  a  whisper: 

"  Be  patient — this  is  hard  for  me " 

And  as  if  fearing  to  exhaust  that  patience  for  which  she 
was  begging,  the  woman  began  hurriedly,  and  therefore 
without  order,  to  say: 

"  A  common  misfortune  has  struck  us — thou  hast  been, 
Aloysius,  so  kind,  so  immensely  loving  to  our  poor  Cara — 
when  I  go  from  here  with  Irene,  thou  wilt  be  so  much  alone 
— Maryan  has  some  project  of  travel — so  perhaps — if  it  were 
possible — if  thou  couldst  forget  the  past — I  do  not  know 
even — forgive — if  thou  shouldst  wish,  I  and  Irene  would 
remain " 

While  speaking  she  gained  some  courage;  some  internal 
motive  was  to  be  felt  in  her,  which  forced  her  to  speak. 

"I  will  not  try  to  justify  myself  before  thee,  Aloysius, 
nor  to  deny  that  I  am  guilty — I  will  say  only  this,  that  I, 
too,  was  unhappy,  and  that  my  fault  has  caused  me  dread- 
ful suffering.  I  wished  to  say  to  thee,  Aloysius,  that,  per- 
haps, even  on  thy  part  also,  for  thou  didst  not  know  me — 
that  is,  thou  didst  know  my  face,  my  eyes,  my  hair,  the 
sound  of  my  voice,  and  they  pleased  thee,  hence  thou  didst 
make  me  thy  wife,  but  thou  didst  not  know  my  soul,  and 
didst  not  wish  to  be  its  confidant,  or  its  defender.  This  soul 
was  not  devoid  of  good  desires;  not  without  some  small  be- 
ginning of  heartfelt  happiness — though  it  was  the  unfortu- 
nate soul  of  a  woman  attacked  by  wealth  and  idleness.    But 

867 


The  Argonauts 

+hou,  Aloysius,  didst  make  a  rich  woman  of  a  girl  who, 
though  poor  and  a  toiler,  held  her  head  high — thou  didst 
make  her  a  rich  and  unoccupied  woman,  who — was  left  to 
herself  at  all  times.  Still,  it  was  thy  wish  and  demand  that 
I  should  represent  thy  name  in  society  with  the  utmost 
effect;  thy  name;  thy  firm,  as  thou  didst  call  it." 

She  was  silent,  for  her  eyes  met  his  smile  which  was 
bristling  with  pin-points. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  he,  "  that  in  this  tragic  piece 
which  it  pleases  thee  to  play,  the  role  of  villain  will  fall  to 
me." 

"  Oh,  no!  "  cried  she,  clasping  her  hands.  "  Oh,  no!  I 
did  not  wish  to  complain  of  thee  in  any  way,  or  to  make 
reproaches — I  have  not  the  right — but — I  think  that  since 
all  of  us  in  this  world  are  guilty  in  some  way,  and  life  is  so 
sad,  and  all  is  so — poor,  it  would  perhaps  be  better  to  for- 
give each  other — to  yield,  to  renounce.  This  is  what  I 
think,  and  though  my  pride  is  wounded  this  long  time  be- 
cause all  that  I  must  use  is  thine,  I  yield,  and  I  will  use  it, 
though  my  only  wish  is  to  go  from  here,  to  withdraw  from 
the  world,  to  vanish  forever  in  some  lonely  corner " 

Her  voice  quivered,  shaken  by  sobbing,  but  she  restrained 
herself  and  finished: 

"  I  will  renounce  this  desire,  and  remain,  if — only  thou 
wish — if  only  thou  wilt  not  despise  me " 

With  his  profile  outlined  more  and  more  sharply  on  the 
window-pane,  which  grew  darker  from  the  gloom,  he  an- 
swered, after  a  moment  of  silence: 

"  I  have  not  the  strength  for  it.  I  am  very  sorry;  but  in 
me  is  not  stuff  to  make  the  hero  of  a  Christian  romance. 
Thou  hast  perfect  freedom  of  movement;  Krynichna  be- 
longs to  thy  daughter.  Thou  mayst  vanish  with  her  in  that 
'  lonely  corner,'  in  which  I  cannot  wish  pleasant  lives  to 

268 


The  Argonauts 

you,  or  remain  and  live  here  as  hitherto,  which  I  could 
understand  better;  but  in  no  case " 

He  stopped  suddenly,  and  was  silent. 

While  speaking  with  that  woman  he  had  felt  beneath  his 
throat  a  coil  of  snakes  stifling  him,  but  in  his  brain  certain 
memories  were  sounding,  as  it  were  voices,  the  echo  of  some- 
thing distant.  This  echo  issued  from  that  woman's  features, 
changed  and  faded,  though  the  same  in  which  on  a  time  he 
had  fixed  his  eyes  with  rapture,  from  the  sound  of  her  voice, 
which,  at  all  times,  had  possessed  for  him  a  charm  beyond 
description.  His  head,  as  if  pressed  by  something  above  him 
and  invisible,  dropped  with  an  almost  indiscernible  move- 
ment. Shall  he  forgive?  And  what  would  the  result  be? 
An  idyl?  Harmony?  A  return  to  family  happiness? 
Folly! 

That  can  never  be.  Only  one  thing  in  this  world  is  un- 
doubted and  indestructible:  a  fact.  ±\.  fact  has  taken  place, 
and  there  is  no  power  in  existence  to  cause  that  fact  not 
to  be.  All  views  except  this  are  exaltation!  After  a  mo- 
ment of  silence  he  finished  coldly  and  with  deliberation: 

"  In  no  case  can  my  feelings,  or  our  relations  be  subject 
to  change." 

She  rested  her  hand  against  the  table  more  firmly,  and 
bent  her  head  lower — through  that  head  were  still  wander- 
ing certain  thoughts  of  a  return  to  pure  womanly  honor 
through  expiation,  through  yielding  obediently  to  the  will 
of  the  offended. 

Then  she  began  in  a  very  low  voice: 

"  Can  I  aid  thee  in  any  way?  " 

After  a  moment  of  silence  he  answered: 

«  No." 

"  Can  I  be  of  use  to  thee  in  anything?  " 

He  was  silent  a  little  longer,  and  said: 

269 


The  Argonauts 

"  No,"  a  second  time. 

The  profile  which  had  been  turned  to  her  was  looking 
now  through  the  window-pane  to  a  ruddy  cloud,  which  was 
moving  on  in  darkness  above  the  roof  opposite,  that  cloud 
reminded  him  of  something.  She  looked  at  him,  and,  after 
a  moment,  added: 

"  Our  daughter  will  write  to  thee,  Aloysius." 

He  interrupted  her,  hurriedly: 

"  Thy  daughter!  " 

She  began  in  astonishment: 

*'  Irene " 

He  knew  now  that  that  ruddy  cloud  moving  over  the 
darkening  sky  reminded  him  of  Cara.  He  turned  his  face 
toward  the  face  of  the  woman  standing  there. 

"  Irene  is  thy  daughter,"  said  he — "  for  what  meaning 
have  blood-bonds  when  there  are  no  others?  I  had  a  child 
who  was  my  own " 

At  that  moment  desire  for  revenge  boiled  up  in  him;  the 
desire  to  crush,  so  he  finished: 

"  And  I  lost  her — through  thee!  " 

"Through  me?" 

Her  questioning  cry  was  full  of  amazement. 

"  Thou  knowest  of  nothing  then?  They  have  hidden  it 
from  thee?  A  proper  regard  for  the  delicate  nerves  of  a 
woman!  But  my  rude  nerves  of  a  man  feel  the  need  of 
sharing  this  knowledge  with  thy  nerves." 

Slowly  and  emphatically  he  uttered  his  words;  words 
which,  from  moment  to  moment,  were  hissed  through  his 
pallid  lips,  and  thus  he  concluded: 

"  Once  thy  daughter  had  an  interesting  conversation  with 
me;  a  very  interesting  conversation  about — everything 
which  took  place  in  our  family  idyl.  The  little  girl,  hidden 
behind  some  furniture,  heard  the  conversation,  and  became 

270 


The  Argonauts 

mentally  disordered — oh!  temporarily,  of  course,  and  this 
would  have  passed,  but  under  its  influence  she  exposed  her- 
self to  the  cold  night  air  so  as  to  die.  Inflammation  of  the 
lungs  was  complicated  by  mental  disorder.  Her  death — was 
suicide." 

The  last  words  went  out  of  his  straitened  throat  in  a  sup- 
pressed whisper,  still  they  were  so  definite  as  to  be  heard  in 
every  part  of  the  great  chamber.  They  were  deadened,  how- 
ever, by  the  overpowering  shriek  of  the  woman  and  the  noise 
made  as  her  body  fell  to  the  floor.  Pani  Darvid's  knees 
bent  under  her,  and  dropping,  with  her  face  in  her  hands, 
her  head  struck  the  corner  of  the  table  near  which  she  had 
been  standing.  At  that  moment  Irena  shot  into  the  cham- 
ber; like  a  skylark,  flying  forward  to  defend  its  little  ones, 
she  ran  to  her  mother,  and  surrounding  her  bent  form  with 
both  arms,  she  raised  to  her  father  a  face  covered  with  a 
flood  of  tears. 

"  A  needless  cruelty,  father,"  cried  she.  "  Ah,  how  I  hid 
this  from  her;  how  I  tried  to  hide  it!  This  is  a  needless 
cruelty!  I  thought  that  a  man  as  wise  as  thou  would  do 
nothing  so  uncalled  for.  But  thou  hast  committed  a  vile- 
ness! " 

Darvid  made  an  abrupt  movement,  but  restrained  himself, 
and  with  his  face  toward  the  window  he  heard  the  retreat- 
ing footsteps  of  the  two  women.  There  was  a  second  of 
time  during  which  he  turned  his  head,  and  his  lips  moved  as 
if  some  word,  a  name  was  to  escape  from  him.  At  that  mo- 
ment the  two  women,  holding  to  each  other,  moved  slowly 
through  the  next  drawing-room,  advanced  in  the  increasing 
darkness,  and  vanished.  He  uttered  no  word.  What  was 
his  feeling  when  she  shrieked  and  struck  her  head  against 
the  edge  of  the  table?  Was  it  pity?  Perhaps.  Was  it  a 
quiver  of  sorrow  for  that  past  which  had  left  him  forever, 

271 


The  Argonauts 

and  for  that  daughter  who  went  out  with  the  word  "  vile- 
ness  "  hanging  on  her  lips?  Perhaps.  But  he  said  nothing; 
he  uttered  no  name.  He  remained  alone.  It  was  silent 
around  him  and  empty.  Emptiness  occupied  that  part  of 
space  beyond  the  window,  for  the  rosy  cloud  which  had 
passed  there  a  Avhile  before  had  vanished.  The  figure  of 
Darvid  standing  at  the  window  became  darker  in  that  gloom, 
which,  growing  denser,  dimmed  and  then  concealed  the 
white,  the  blue,  and  the  gilding  of  the  great  drawing-room. 
By  degrees  the  lines  of  his  face  became  invisible;  his  trem- 
bling hands  and  the  quiver  of  the  skin  on  his  cheeks  were 
no  longer  to  be  distinguished,  and  Darvid  appeared  on  the 
gray  background  of  the  window  as  a  narrow  and  perfectly 
black  line.  He  did  not  go  away,  for  he  was  riveted  there, 
fixed  in  thought,  filled  with  amazement.  In  this  way,  in 
this  manner  then,  all  things  on  earth  are  ended.  Those  in- 
visible giants,  Death,  Insanity,  Anguish,  Eage,  go  about 
the  world  trampling,  crushing,  rending,  and  no  man  has 
power  to  arrest  them!  He  had  never  thought  about 
those  giants.  How  could  he?  Was  he  a  philosopher?  He 
had  not  had  time  to  think.  Now  he  was  thinking,  and  at 
the  bottom  of  his  stony  meditation  he  beholds  a  pale,  dread- 
ful visage.  Something  which  recalls  a  Medusa-head,  which 
he  had  seen  some  time  in  a  picture.  It  has  struggled  out  of 
raging  waves,  and  is  resting  on  them  face  upward;  its  hair 
is  torn;  its  gaze  has  endless  depth;  and  on  its  blue  lips  is  a 
jeering  smile.  What  is  it  Jeering  at?  Perhaps  at  the 
grandeur  of  the  man  who  appears  as  a  narrow  line  on  the 
gray  background  of  that  window,  black,  and  alone  as  he  is, 
in  the  gathering  gloom  and  the  silence? 

Now  something  soft  and  timid  touches  his  feet,  and  he 
sees  a  little  dark  point  moving.    He  stoops  and  calls: 

"  Puffie! " 

272 


The  Argonauts 

At  the  floor  was  heard  thin  barking.  Puffie  had  always 
barked  that  way  to  call  the  attention  of  his  mistress. 

Darvid  bent  low  with  his  hand  on  the  silky  coat,  and  re- 
peated: 

"  Puffle! " 

Then  he  straightened  himself,  and,  leaving  the  window, 
called  several  times  in  succession: 

"Puffie!    Puffie!" 

The  black  line  moved  on,  in  the  gray  darkness,  through 
two  drawing-rooms,  and  behind  it,  on  the  floor,  rolled  the 
dark  small  ball-like  object,  till  a  space  of  bright  light 
gleamed  before  them.  This  was  the  widely  open  door  of  his 
clearly  lighted  study. 

In  the  door  the  footman  pronounced  loudly  a  name,  at 
the  sound  of  which  Darvid's  step  quickened.  At  last  the 
man  had  returned — the  envoy,  the  agent,  the  hound  had 
come  back!  Beyond  doubt  he  brings  favoring  news,  other- 
wise he  would  have  no  cause  to  come.  Hence,  that  colossal 
business;  that  immense  arena  of  toil  and  struggle,  through 
which  an  enormous  vein  of  gold  runs,  may  belong  to  Dar- 
vid. How  timely  this  is!  The  business  will  freshen  him; 
snatch  him  out  of  the  evil  dreams  into  which  he  has  fallen 
for  some  time  past.  Indeed,  all  these  exaltations,  all  these 
elements  of  feeling,  which  have  risen  in  him  with  such 
power,  are  an  unwholesome  and  nervous  dream,  out  of 
which  he  must  shake  himself  and  return  to  clear,  sober, 
sound  reality. 


273 


CHAPTEE  XI 

A  RATHER  long  series  of  days  had  passed  when  Darvid 
entered  his  clear,  brightly  lighted  study,  after  winning  one 
of  the  very  greatest  triumphs  of  his  life.  In  the  antecham- 
ber he  had  thrown  into  the  hands  of  a  footman,  not  his  fur, 
but  a  somewhat  light  overcoat;  for  that  day,  which  for  him 
had  been  lucky,  was  succeeded  by  a  warm,  spring  evening. 
Whoever  might  have  seen  him  when  he  was  leaving  the  lofty 
threshold  of  the  highest  dignitary  in  that  city  must  have  said 
to  himself:  "Happy  man!"  Though  he  had  grown  evi- 
dently thin  during  recent  days;  gladness  and  pride  were 
beaming  from  his  smile;  from  his  eyes;  from  his  serene  fore- 
head. He  possessed  now  that  for  which  he  had  striven  long 
in  vain:  he  held  in  his  hand  the  colossal  enterprise;  before 
him  was  a  broad  arena  for  iron  toil  and  a  great  vein,  of 
gold.  It  is  true,  that  while  making  ready  for  that  moment 
of  triumph,  he  had  spent  days  and  nights  like  a  Bene- 
dictine over  piles  of  books  and  documents,  calculating,  com- 
bining, covering  many  folios  of  paper  with  arguments  and 
figures.  He  had  toiled  immensely,  thinking  of  nothing 
save  the  toil;  and  now,  when  he  stood  at  his  object  as  a 
conqueror,  all  people  said:  he  is  happy!  He  had  received 
a  multitude  of  congratulations  already;  in  the  eyes  of  men 
he  had  read  much  admiration.  He  had  just  returned  from 
a  meeting  where,  by  accurate  and  fluent  speech,  he  had 
convinced  and  won  over  a  numerous  assembly  of  men  of 
uncommon  keenness  and  significance.  Thus  had  he  passed 
the  day;  now,  in  the  middle  of  the  evening,  he  returned 
to   his   house;   and   when  he   had  given   the   servant  in 

274 


The  Argonauts 

attendance  the  brief  command:  "  Receive  no  one!  "  he 
asked: 

"  Where  is  the  little  dog?  " 

After  that  he  dropped  into  a  deep  armchair  near  the 
round  table,  and  had  the  face,  for  a  while,  of  a  man  who  is 
waking  from  sleep.  For  a  number  of  days  he  had  been 
so  buried  in  thought  over  this  weighty  enterprise,  and 
that  day  from  early  morning  he  had  been  so  absorbed  by 
the  feeling  of  that  victory  which  he  had  won,  that  he  had 
had  no  time  to  think  of  any  other  thing;  now,  after  a  long 
time,  in  the  first  moment  of  inactivity  which  had  fallen  to 
him,  he  felt  as  if  waking  from  sleep,  and  he  was  brought 
to  thinking  by  the  question: 

"Well?    What  is  it  for?  " 

Just  this  question  was  to  him  at  that  moment  reality,  while 
every  other  thing  was  accomplished  by  the  power  of  habit. 
He  had  toiled,  calculated,  triumphed,  just  as  a  round  body 
rolls  over  an  inclined  plane  by  the  force  of  acquired  motion. 
Under  this  surface-life,  which  had  been  the  one  which  he 
had  led  so  long  exclusively,  was  now  another  one  which 
seized  a  continually  increasing  area;  this  new  life,  a  mys- 
tery to  every  other  man,  had  become  for  him  more  tangible 
than  the  entire  visible  universe.  Out  of  it  was  growing 
an  irresistible,  importunate  riddle,  enclosed  in  the  brief 
words:    What  for? 

These  two  brief  words  kept  returning  to  his  mind  during 
every  moment  of  rest,  so  that  hours  of  noise  and  movement 
eeemed  to  him  a  dream,  and  only  those  two  words — unceas- 
ingly recurrent — the  one  true  reality  over  which  there  was 
reason  to  be  anxious. 

Why  had  he  taken  on  his  head  and  hands  this  new  burden 
of  toil,  which  was  greater  than  all  the  others?  Why,  in 
general,  this  climbing  a  sky-touching  ladder  with  exertion 

275 


The  Argonauts 

of  all  his  strength  of  nerve  and  brain?  To  what  kind  of 
heaven  could  he  climb  upon  that  ladder?  Kew  profits, 
ever-increasing  wealth?  But  he  had  ceased  to  desire  these! 
Although  that  seemed  marvellous  to  the  man  himself,  he 
had  ceased  really.  Why?  Did  he  own  little?  He  was 
the  possessor  of  enormously  much.  He  had  never  been 
of  those  who  make  a  golden  chariot  so  as  to  sit  in  it  with 
Bacchantes  and  with  Bacchus.  But  pride?  He  laughed. 
Yes,  pride,  but  that  was  before  he  had  known,  intimately, 
those  giants  who  sit  in  various  corners  of  the  earth.  He 
knows  them  now;  he  knows  what  they  can  do;  and  he 
knows  his  own  power.  Why  toil?  What  for?  But  his 
worth;  that  worth  which  people  esteem  so  immensely  that 
they  almost  cast  themselves  at  his  feet,  or  do  they  cast  them- 
selves before  his  golden  chariot  ?  For,  if  that  chariot  were 
to  shoot  away  from  under  him,  would  he  retain  the  title  of 
modern  Cid,  Titan,  superhuman?  It  was  wonderful  with 
what  clearness  he  saw  then  Maryan,  sitting  in  that  chair,  and 
how  distinctly  he  heard  his  voice  inquiring:  "  What  is  the 
object  of  your  toil,  father?  The  object;  the  object?  That 
decides  everything.  What  was  the  object?  Of  course,  not 
this  world's  salvation!  "  He  laughed  again.  What  cause 
was  there  for  long  thought  here!  His  object  had  been  to 
win  new  profits  continually;  to  gain  ever-increasing  wealth; 
and  now,  since  he  had  ceased  to  desire  these,  the  question 
was — what  for? 

But  the  genius  of  that  Maryan  with  his  questions!  He 
had  gone  down  so  deeply  into  his  father's  being  that  those 
questions  remained  there  and  continued  their  inquisitorial  , 
labor.  A  beautiful  and  genial  fellow!  A  young  prince; 
almost  a  sage.  But  what  does  that  signify  if — he  lacks 
something?  What  is  it  that  he  lacks,  and  so  lacks  that 
he  is  as  if  he  had  nothing?    What  is  it  that  he  lacks? 

276 


The  Argonauts 

With  a  slow  movement,  in  which  weariness  was  evident, 
Darvid  turned  his  head  toward  the  desk,  which  was  hghted 
abundantly  with  tapers  burning  on  lofty  candlesticks.  What 
did  those  candlesticks  hring  to  his  mind?  Ah,  yes,  he 
remembers!  On  a  time  he  gave  one  of  them,  in  the  inner 
drawing-room,  to  Cara,  so  that  the  candle  burning  in  it 
might  light  the  way  to  her.  He  remembers  how  her  slen- 
der arm  bent  beneath  its  weight  when  her  small  hand  took 
it,  and  how  beautifully  the  flame  of  the  candle  was  re- 
flected in  the  dark  pupils  gazing  at  him  with  such — with 
such  what?  With  such  exaltation!  But  how  wonderful, 
how  intense  was  his  happiness  when  that  child  lived  and 
loved  him  as  she  did!  That  was  his  only  happiness!  Then, 
holding  the  light  in  the  heavy  candlestick  straight  on  be- 
fore her  rosy  face,  she  went  on  into  the  darkness. 

Again  he  looked  around,  not  with  a  wearied  movement 
as  before,  but  abruptly.  He  looked  around  at  the  door 
beyond  which  thick  darkness  was  hiding,  impenetrably,  a 
series  of  drawing-rooms.  This  darkness  was  hke  a  black 
wall  outside  the  door.  Along  Darvid's  shoulders  ran  a  move- 
ment of  the  skin,  the  same  as  a  man  feels  when  something 
heavy  from  behind  is  placed  upon  his  shoulders,  or  rides 
onto  him.  That  black  wall,  in  which  an  enchanted  row  of 
empty  drawing-rooms  stood  silent,  seemed  to  put  itself  down 
on  him.  But  again  he  looked  toward  the  desk;  there,  among 
a  multitude  of  papers,  lay  a  letter  from  Maryan,  received 
many  days  before.  Darvid  had  not  destroyed  or  put  away 
this  letter,  and  not  knowing  himself  the  reason  why,  had 
left  it  on  the  desk  there.  The  letter,  in  that  great  study, 
appeared  definitely  with  its  white  color  on  the  green  of  the 
malachite  writing  utensils.  Moreover,  it  was  not  a  letter. 
A  number  of  lines  merely.  He  had  written  that,  wishing 
to  spare  his  father  and  himself  a  new  personal  interview; 

277 


The  Argonauts 

he  gives  notice,  in  writing,  of  his  trip  to  America.  But 
as  he  is  slow  to  write  letters  he  confines  himself  to  a  few 
words.  Since  an  incomprehensihle  lack  of  logic  in  direct- 
ing his  life  had  forced  him  to  become  a  laborer,  he  de- 
sired to  choose  the  field  and  the  manner  according  tO'  his 
own  individuality.  He  had  turned  his  personal  property 
into  money;  this  had  brought  him  a  considerable  sum; 
he  had  borrowed  another  sum;  he  did  not  ask  pardon  for 
acting  thus,  since  this  borrowing  was  the  natural  outcome 
of  a  position  of  which  he  was  not  the  cause,  but  on  the 
contrary  the  victim.  He  makes  no  rej)roaches,  since  he  is 
ever  of  opinion  that  all  such  things  as  offences  and  services, 
crimes  and  virtues,  are  soup  prepared  from  the  bones  of 
great-grandfathers,  and  served  in  painted  pots  to  Arcadians. 
All  this  was  concluded  with  a  compliment  which  was  smooth, 
rounded,  exquisite  as  to  style,  plan,  and  execution. 

Lack  of  logic.  Those  three  words  had  fixed  themselves 
in  Darvid's  memory,  and  after  the  words  "what  for?"  ap- 
peared in  it  most  frequently.  Could  they  really  relate  to 
him?  Had  he  in  fact  committed  an  error  in  logic?  Yes, 
it  seemed  so.  In  that  case  his  clear,  sober,  logical  reason 
had  deceived  him.  He  rose,  and  with  his  profile  toward  the 
door,  felt  again,  rather  than  saw,  a  black  wall  of  darkness 
beyond.  Again  a  shiver  ran  along  the  skin  of  his  shoulders, 
which  quivered  and  bent  somewhat.  He  went  to  the  desk, 
from  which  he  took  another  letter,  thrown  down  a  moment 
before,  and  unread  yet.  Something  in  the  room  was  mov- 
ing; certain  little  steps  ran  along  the  carpet  quietly.  Puffie 
had  woke;  had  run  to  the  man,  and  begun  to  squirm  at 
his  feet. 

"Puffie! "  said  Darvid,  and  he  began  to  read  the  letter. 
It  was  an  invitation  from  Prince  Zeno  to  a  grand  farewell 
ball.     The  prince  and  his  family  were  going  abroad,  and 

278 


The  Argonauts 

wished  to  take  farewell  of  their  acquaintances  in  the  first 
rank  of  them  with  the  "modern  Cid."  Prince  Zeno  had 
often  given  this  title  to  Darvid.  But  to-day  the  "  modern 
Cid  "  read  the  letter  of  invitation  while  his  mouth  was  awry 
from  disgust.  It  had  not  the  famous  smile  bristling  with 
pin-points,  but  simply  that  disfigurement  of  the  lips  which 
accompanies  the  swallowing  of  something  which  is  nauseat- 
ing and  repugnant.  He  placed  before  his  mind  the  society 
in  which  some  time  before  he  had  passed  a  few  days  at  the 
hunting  trip.  This  society  would  fill  the  prince's  drawing- 
rooms  on  that  day,  and  not  only  did  he  note  in  himself  an 
utter  absence  of  desire  to  be  in  that  society,  but  a  repulsion 
for  it.  Not  that  he  cherished  hatred  toward  those  people, 
but  they  were  perfectly  indifferent  to  him.  He  did  not 
reproach  that  society;  but  when  he  thought  of  it  he  was  con- 
scious again  of  a  boundless  space  and  a  vacuum,  which  di- 
vided him  from  those  who  formed  it.  He  imagined  to  him- 
self Prince  Zeno's  drawing-rooms  filled  with  faces,  costumes, 
conversations,  card-tables;  and,  it  seemed  to  him,  that  it  all 
existed  at  an  immense  distance — on  the  other  side  of  a 
space  that  was  infinite  and  empty — on  one  edge  of  this  space 
was  he;  on  the  other  were  they;  between  him  and  them 
lay  a  vacuum;  no  bond  between  them;  not  even  one  as 
slender  as  a  spider-web. 

In  the  midst  of  the  lofty  chamber,  above  the  round 
table,  burned  the  lamp  with  a  great  and  calm  light;  on  the 
desk,  in  massive  candlesticks,  burned  candles.  In  that  abun- 
dant light  Darvid  stood  near  the  desk,  with  bent  shoulders;  a 
number  of  wrinkles  between  his  brows;  his  face  inclined  low 
toward  the  paper  which  he  held  in  his  hand.  At  his  feet, 
on  the  rug,  like  a  tiny  statue,  sat  the  motionless  Puffie;  with 
upraised  head,  and  through  silken  hair,  the  dog  looked  into 
the  face  of  the  man.    But  Darvid  did  not  see  the  little  ani- 


The  Argonauts 

mal,  and  did  not  read  the  flattering  phrases  on  the  paper; 
he  only  repeated  the  words  which,  on  a  time,  he  had  heard 
from  liis  daugliter: 

"  What  do  you  want  of  so  many  people,  father?  Do  you 
love  them?  Do  they  love  you?  What  comes  of  this? 
Pleasure  or  profit?    What  is  it  all  for?" 

"  I  do  not  love  them,  little  one,  and  they  do  not  love  me. 
Profit  comes  to  me  from  this — significance  in  society." 

"  But  what  is  significance  to  you,  father?  What  do  you 
want  of  significance?    Does  it  give  you  happiness?  " 

This  time  there  appeared  on  liis  lips  the  smile  full  of  pin- 
points, which  was  famous  in  society. 

"  It  has  not  given  it,  little  one!  " 

His  child  had  let  down  on  her  question  his  thought  to 
the  basis  of  life,  as  if  on  threads.  Now  he  looked  around, 
and  his  smile  was  bristling  with  pin-points  of  irony,  increas- 
ing in  sharpness.  He  thought  a  long  time  before  he  said, 
aloud: 

"  What  comes  of  this?  " 

And  afterward,  in  an  inquiring  tone,  he  almost  cried: 

"An  error?" 

In  the  light  of  this  thought  that  his  life  with  its  toils,  its 
conflicts,  and  its  triumphs  could  be  an  error,  he  saw,  again, 
that  Medusa-face,  pale  with  terror. 

Puffie,  perhaps  frightened  by  the  cry  which  had  been 
rent  from  his  master,  fell  to  barking.  Darvid  turned  from 
the  desk,  and  his  glance  met  the  black  wall  beyond  the  door. 

"  Was  it  an  error?  "  he  repeated. 

The  darkness  was  silent,  and  a  face  without  eyes  seemed 
to  gaze  at  him  persistently,  with  attention.  He  moved  for- 
ward a  few  steps  quickly,  and  pressed  the  bell-knob.  To 
the  incoming  servant  he  indicated  the  door,  and  said: 

"Light  up  the  drawing-rooms!" 

280 


The  Argonauts 

After  a  few  moments  the  series  of  drawing-rooms  emerged 
from  the  darkness,  and  stood  in  the  light  of  blazing  lamps 
and  candles.  Globe-lamps,  burning  at  the  walls,  cast  a  hazy 
half-light,  in  which  glittered,  here  and  there,  golden  gleams, 
and  appeared  the  features  of  painted  faces  and  landscapes. 
From  shady  corners  emerged,  partially,  the  forms  of  slender 
and  swelling  vases;  portions  of  white  garlands  on  the  walls; 
the  delicate  mists  of  dim  colors  on  Gobelin  tapestry;  the 
bright  scarlet  and  blue  of  silk  drapery.  Farther  on,  in  the 
small  drawing-room,  burned,  in  two  chandeliers,  a  bundle  of 
tapers,  beneath  which  hung  a  crown  of  crystals,  glittering 
like  icicles,  or  immense  congealed  tears.  Farther  on  still, 
in  the  dining-room,  with  its  dark  walls,  gleamed  a  bright 
spot  in  the  grand  lamp  of  pendant  bronze  above  the  table. 
This  point  seemed  very  distant  from  Darvid's  study;  but 
on  the  whole  expanse  which  divided  him  from  it  there  was 
neither  voice  nor  sound — there  was  nothing  living.  Not- 
withstanding the  multitude  of  objects  scattered,  or  collected, 
this  was  a  desert  on  which  silence  had  imposed  itself. 

From  the  threshold  of  the  study  to  that  door,  beyond 
which  the  largest  of  the  lamps  vv^as  suspended  as  a  shining 
object  in  its  bronze  above  the  table,  Darvid  moved,  step- 
ping with  inclined  face;  at  his  lips  the  fire  of  a  lighted  cigar- 
ette; now,  as  it  were,  extinguished;  and,  now,  shining  up 
again.  Behind  him,  right  there  near  his  feet,  with  the  end 
of  its  snout  almost  touching  the  floor,  rolled  along  little 
Puffie,  like  a  bundle  of  raw  silk. 

After  a  while,  the  step  of  the  advancing  man  grew  more 
hurried  and  uneven;  increasing  disquiet  was  expressed  in 
him;  now  the  light  scattering  along  the  unoccupied  and 
silent  space  the  extent  of  that  space,  and  he  himself  wan- 
dering along  through  it.  What  did  all  this  signify?  Here 
and  there,  in  the  gildings  and  polished  surfaces,  quivered 

281 


The  Argonauts 

flashes  like  playful  gnomes;  at  other  points,  on  bluish  back- 
grounds, pale  faces  looked  from  tapestry  thrown  over  fur- 
niture; still,  farther,  a  great  mirror  reflects  two  clusters  of 
lights,  beneath  which  hang  crystal  pendants,  and,  increas- 
ing the  perspective,  made  the  space  still  greater,  and  the 
light  more  peculiar;  in  another  place,  from  behind  bluish 
folds  depending  from  a  door,  appears  a  vase  of  Chinese  porce- 
lain; and,  at  that  moment,  it  assumes,  in  Darvid's  eyes,  a 
strange  appearance.  Large,  covered  with  blue  decorations, 
it  has  a  form  which  is  swollen  in  the  middle,  but  slender 
above,  with  a  long  neck,  and  not  altogether  visible;  it 
seems  to  lean  forward  from  behind  the  curtains,  gaze  at 
the  passing  man,  follow  his  steps,  and  laugh  at  him.  Yes, 
the  Chinese  vase  is  laughing — its  body  seems  to  swell  more 
and  more  from  laughter,  and  in  the  blue  painting  the 
white  background  has,  here  and  there,  a  deceptive  simi- 
larity to  grinning  teeth,  Darvid  strives  not  to  look  at  the 
vase,  and  hastens  on;  behind  him  Puffie's  shaggy  feet  tread 
the  floor  more  hurriedly,  but  as  he  returns,  the  porcelain 
monster  thrusts  out  its  long  neck  again  from  behind  the 
curtain,  jeers,  bares  its  teeth,  and  seems  ready  to  burst 
from  laughter.  At  the  opposite  side  of  that  drawing-room, 
on  a  blue  background,  is  the  pale  face  of  an  old  man,  and 
from  above  a  gray  beard  the  sad  and  inquisitive  eyes  of 
the  patriarch  are  settled  on  Darvid. 

What  does  all  this  mean?  Darvid  halted  in  the  centre  of 
one  of  the  drawing-rooms,  right  there  behind  him  the  bundle 
of  raw  silk  halted  also,  and  stood  on  its  shaggy  paws.  What 
was  he  doing  in  those  empty  drawing-rooms;  why  had  he 
commanded  to  light  them?  This  act  seems  like  madness. 
He  called  to  mind  recent  acts  of  an  insane  king,  who,  in 
a  brilliantly  lighted  edifice,  listened  alone  to  the  rendering 
of  an  opera.     Is  he  also  becoming  insane?     Why  is  he 

282 


The  Argonauts 

not  at  work?  He  has  so  much  to  do!  Darvid  advanced 
quickly,  and  halted  again.  The  Chinese  vase  inclined  half 
way  from  behind  the  curtain,  it  seemed  bursting  from 
laughter.  Work?  What  for?  The  object?  The  object? 
That  decides  everything!  He  turned  his  glance  from  the 
gnashing  teeth  of  the  Chinese  monster,  and  it  met  the 
pale  face  of  the  patriarch,  whose  eyes,  looking  out  at  him 
from  the  blue  background,  and  from  above  a  gray  beard, 
said  with  sadness,  and  inquiringly:    "  The  ^vrong  road!  " 

He  had  lost  the  road!  Only  the  habit  of  restraining  in- 
ternal impulses,  and  the  expression  of  them,  kept  him  from 
crying  "Help!"  But  he  had  the  cry  within  him,  and 
with  a  quick  and  uneven  tread  he  went  toward  the  great 
lamp  burning  at  the  end  of  the  perspective,  in  the  centre  of 
the  open  space  between  the  walls  of  the  dining-room.  Be- 
hind  him  ran  along  Puffie,  with  all  the  speed  of  his  shaggy 
feet. 

Meanwhile,  in  one  of  the  drawing-rooms,  the  clock  began 
to  strike  eleven — one,  two,  three.  Its  deep  sounds  pene- 
trated slowly  the  empty  space  on  which  silence  had  imposed 
itself,  until  somewhere,  at  the  other  end  of  the  perspective, 
a  second  clock  began  to  strike,  as  if  answering  this  one 
in  a  thinner  voice  and  more  hurriedly.  This  seemed  a 
voice,  an  echo,  a  conversation  carried  on  by  things  that  were 
inanimate. 

Darvid  returned  to  his  study,  and  pressing  the  knob  of  the 
bell  again,  said  to  his  servant: 

"  Put  out  the  lights!  " 

He  sat  in  one  of  the  armchairs  at  the  round  table,  and  felt 
an  unspeakable  weariness  from  the  crown  of  his  head  to 
his  feet.  Some  light  body  sprang  to  his  knee.  He  placed 
his  hand  on  the  silky  coat  of  the  creature  nestling  up  to 
him,  and  said: 


The  Argonauts 

"Puffie!" 

He  considered  that  he  must  renounce  absolutely  that  co- 
lossal affair  to  obtain  whicli  he  liad  struggled  so  long,  be- 
cause strength,  and  especially  desire  for  such  immense  toil, 
seemed  to  fail  him.  He  was  so  tired.  But  if  he  abandons 
toil  what  will  he  do;  what  is  he  to  hve  for?  What  is  the 
object  of  life? 

The  darkness  was  silent,  and  as  a  face  without  eyes  seemed 
to  gaze  on  him  with  stubbornness  and  attention. 

A  few  hours  later,  in  a  sleeping-room,  furnished  by  the 
most  skilled  of  decorators  in  the  capital,  a  night-lamp,  placed 
on  the  mantle,  cast  its  light  on  a  bed  adorned  with  rich  carv- 
ing; a  hand,  white  and  thin,  stretched  forth  on  the  silken 
coverlet,  and  a  face,  also  thin,  with  ruddy  side-whiskers,  it- 
self as  if  carved  out  of  ivory,  and  gleaming  with  a  pair  of 
blue,  sleepless  eyes,  which  wandered  through  that  spacious, 
half -lighted,  chamber  with  a  tortured  and  heavy  expression. 

All  at  once  Darvid  raised  himself  in  bed,  and,  with  his 
elbow  on  the  pillow,  gazed  upward.  Higher  on  the  wall  was 
the  face  of  a  maiden,  small,  oval,  rosy,  with  thick,  bright  hair 
scattered  above  her  Grecian  forehead,  and  by  a  movement  of 
her  eyes  she  seemed  to  summon  the  man  gazing  at  her.  She 
smiled,  with  rosy  lips,  at  him,  lovingly,  and  moved  her  eye- 
lids, inviting  him.  Darvid,  with  raised  brows,  and  with  his 
forehead  gathered  in  a  number  of  great  wrinkles;  with  eyes 
turned  to  that  picture  above  him  bent  forward  still  more, 
and,  with  trembling  lips,  whispered:  "  My  little  one."  But 
immediately  after  he  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  smiled.  It  was 
a  picture  by  Greuze!  There  were  two  of  them:  one  almost 
invisible  in  the  shade;  the  other  that  one  emerging  from  the 
shade  into  a  half  light  in  such  fashion  that  the  head  of  the 
maiden  seemed  to  stand  out  from  the  canvas  as  it  were 
suspended. 

284 


The  Argonauts 


fc> 


It  is  like  Cara;  very  like  her.  The  same  type— the  very 
same  lips,  hair,  and  forehead " 

He  knew  that  that  was  a  painted  face;  still,  with  his  head 
on  the  pillow,  he  raised  his  eyes  to  it  frequently,  and  as  often 
as  he  raised  them  he  saw  a  loving  smile  on  the  rosy  lips  and 
the  distinct  movement  of  the  eyes  which  seemed  to  call  and 
invite  him. 

He  thought  that  he  was  ill,  imnerved;  that  he  must  sum- 
mon in  physicians.  Next  morning  Darvid  heard,  in  the 
study  of  a  famous  doctor,  that  his  nerves  were  unstrung  re- 
markably; suffering  from  a  blow  which  had  struck  him — 
over-work.  He  had  toiled  beyond  measure.  There  was  only 
one  cure:  complete  and  long  rest.  A  jour-ey  abroad.  A 
change  of  impressions,  after  hard  and  special  toil;  life  in  the 
midst  of  splendid  scenery  and  works  of  art. 

Meditating  afterward  on  this  advice  of  the  doctor,  he 
thought  that  he  had  not  the  slightest  wish  to  follow  it. 
Neither  nature  nor  art  attracted  him  in  any  way.  During 
his  whole  life  he  had  not  had  the  time  for  them,  and  it  was 
too  late  now  for  new  studies.  Why  was  he  to  undertake  a 
journey  if  not  for  that  purpose?  He  had  travelled  much  in 
his  lifetime,  but  always  on  business,  and  with  a  clearly  de- 
fined object;  without  business  and  an  object,  travelling 
through  the  world  seemed  to  him  exactly  like  that  walking 
in  the  night  through  his  empty,  lighted  mansion;  some- 
thing akin  to  madness. 

What  then?  Days  passed  again  in  toil,  amidst  consulta- 
tions and  reckonings.  The  arranging  of  balances  and  re- 
ports— the  round  body  rolled  on  by  the  power  of  impetus. 
At  appointed  hours  he  received  visits.  He  received  also 
Prince  Zeno,  who  came  to  take  farewell  of  him  for  many 
months,  till  tlic  following  winter. 

"  We  are  scattering,  all  of  us,"  said  the  prince.  "  Like 
285 


The  Argonauts 

birds  in  autumn  we  are  flying  to  places  where  the  sun  shines 
most  beautifully.  You,  too,  will  go,  of  course.  Whither? 
To  the  South  or  the  East?  Perhaps  to  that  estate  where 
your  wife  and  daughter  are  passing  the  sad  time  of  family 
mourning?  But  apropos  of  the  country.  You  know  that 
poor  Kranitski;  well,  he  came  to  take  farewell  of  me.  He 
has  left  the  city;  left  it  never  to  come  back  again.  He  has 
gone  to  the  country.  He  is  to  remain  on  his  estate — a  small 
one,  not  over-pleasantly  situated.  I  was  there  once  on  a 
visit  to  his  mother,  with  whom  I  was  connected  by  blood- 
bonds.  A  tiresome  little  hole,  that  place!  But  what  is  to 
be  done?  This  handsome  and  once  charming  man  has  grown 
dreadfully  old;  the  conditions  of  his  life  were  difficult — so 
he  has  gone.  Your  son  is  making  a  long  journey.  Is  he  in 
the  United  States  already  ?  Baron  Blauendorf  is  going  there 
also;  only  yesterday  he  bade  good-by  to  us.  We  scatter 
through  the  world;  but,  till  we  meet  again?  For  I  should 
be  in  despair  were  I  to  lose  an  acquaintance  so  precious 
and  dear  to  me  as  yours  is." 

Ah,  how  indifferent  it  was  to  Darvid  whether  he  should 
keep  or  lose  acquaintance  with  Prince  Zeno.  He  saw  and 
recognized  in  the  man  many  fine  and  agreea''jle  qualities, 
but  he  would  rather  not  see  him,  just  as  he  would  rather  not 
see  others.  All  seemed  strange  to  him  and  distant.  Con- 
versation, even  with  the  most  agreeable  and  worthy,  both 
wearied  and  annoyed  him.  "  What  do  you  want  of  so  many 
people,  father?    Do  you  love  them?    Do  they  love  you?  " 

One  thought  now  devoured  him.  That  "  poor  Kranitski  " 
had  left  the  city  to  live  on  his  estate  permanently,  or  rather 
in  his  poor  village,  situated  in  that  same  district  as  Kryn- 
ichna,  not  very  near,  but  in  the  same  region.  Of  course,  he 
will  be  a  frequent  guest  at  Krynichna — but,  maybe  not; 
even,  surely  not.    Indeed,  she  had  broken  with  him,  and, 

286 


The  Argonauts 

in  truth,  she  felt  immense  shame  and  pain — he  laughed.  A 
penitent  Magdalen!  He  finished  with  the  thought:  Un- 
happy woman! 

But  what  more  had  he  to  do  that  day?  Ah!  he  had  an 
appointment  to  meet  that  young  sculptor  at  the  cemetery 
toward  evening,  and  agree  on  a  monument  for  Cara.  That 
was  to  be  a  monument  of  great  cost  and  beauty — a  moun- 
tain of  gold  above  the  "  little  one." 

The  great  cemetery  was  in  the  bright  green  of  leaves 
which  had  recently  unfolded  on  the  trees,  and  in  the  in- 
toxicating odor  of  violets  over  Cara's  grave-mound,  which 
was  covered  with  a  carpet,  not  of  modest  violets,  But  of  ex- 
quisite exotic  flowers.  Darvid  spoke  long  with  the  young 
sculptor,  and  with  a  number  of  other  men,  giving,  agreeably 
and  fluently,  opinions  and  directions  concerning  the  erec- 
tion of  the  monument.  While  doing  this,  his  eyes  dropped, 
at  moments,  to  the  grave,  and  were  fixed  with  such  force 
on  it  as  if  he  wished  to  pierce  through  that  carpet  of  flow- 
ers; through  the  stratum  of  brick;  through  the  coffin,  and 
look  at  that  wliich  was  under  the  lid.  At  last,  with  a  polite 
elevation  of  his  hat,  he  took  farewell  of  them,  and  passed 
on  by  a  path,  amid  columns  and  statues  intwined  with  a 
lace  of  bright  leaves,  into  the  centre  of  that  broad  city  of  the 
dead.  That  was  his  first  acquaintance  with  such  a  city.  He 
had  seen  a  multitude  of  other  such  cities,  but  had  never 
become  acquainted  with  one  of  them.  He  had  looked  into 
them  sometimes,  but  briefly,  and  because  he  was  forced  to 
it — his  head  was  ever  filled  with  thoughts  altogether  foreign 
to  such  places.  Now  he  passed  the  interior  of  the  cemetery 
with  this  thought.  So  all  ends  here!  He  did  not  go  out  for 
a  long  time.  His  carriage,  with  cushions  of  sapphire-colored 
damask,  and  his  pair  of  splendid  horses  stood  long  before 
the  cemetery  gate,  obedient  and  motionless.    In  the  chapel 

287 


The  Argonauts 

tower  the  silver  music  of  the  vesper-bell  sounded,  and  ceased 
to  sound.  Darkness  had  begun  to  fall  on  the  fresh  green 
of  the  trees,  and  the  urns,  columns,  and  statues  standing 
thickly  between  them,  as  Darvid  drove  away  from  the  ceme- 
tery. 

"When  church-bells  sound,  as  this  has,  people  pray," 
thought  he.  "  Do  they  think  that  God  hears  them?  Does 
God  exist?  Perhaps  he  does.  It  is  even  likely  that  he  does, 
but  that  he  occupies  himself  with  men  and  their  entreaties! 
— I  am  not  sure.  I  have  never  given  time  to  this,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  no  one  knows.  Men  have  wrangled  over 
this  question  for  ages  and — know  nothing.  It  is  a  mys- 
tery. All  places  are  full  of  mystery,  but  men  think  that 
reason  is  a  great  power.  That  is  an  error!  Whatever  ends 
thus  is  misery.  Everything  ends  in  stupidity.  All  things 
are  foolishness!    foolishness!  " 

Eeaching  the  steps  of  his  mansion  he  thought  that  he  felt 
greatly  wearied.  Is  this  old  age?  not  long  before  he  felt 
perfectly  youthful.  But,  evidently,  this  is  the  way — Age 
comes  and  seizes  a  man.  One  giantecs  more — it  seems  to 
him  that  he  is  a  hundred  years  old.  The  same  with  Malvina. 
How  changed  she  was  when  he  spoke  last  to  her.  She  had 
preserved  her  youth  so  long,  and  on  a  sudden  she  was  aged. 
She  must  have  suffered  greatly.    Hapless  woman! 

He  entered  his  study;  sat  down  at  his  desk.  Pufhe  sprang 
onto  his  knee  immediately.  He  put  one  hand  on  the  coat 
of  the  little  dog,  and  with  the  other  opened  a  drawer,  looked 
into  it,  pushed  the  drawer  back,  and,  resting  comfortably 
against  the  arms  of  the  chair,  gazed  into  space  with  a  fixed, 
torpid  look. 

He  was  too  wise  not  to  see  standing,  earlier  or  later, 
before  him,  the  stern  irony  existing  in  human  affairs.  It 
had  been  standing  before  him  for  a  long  time,  but,  stand- 

288 


The  Argonauts 

ing  behind  veils,  such  as  labor,  success — the  eternal  lack 
of  time.  Now  the  veils  had  fallen.  He  beheld  the  irony 
clearly.  It  was  embodied  in  the  swollen  vase  of  Chinese 
porcelain,  which,  though  not  standing  in  that  chamber, 
seemed  to  bend  forward  from  the  corner,  with  sloping  eyes 
painted  in  sapphire.  The  figure  leered  at  him;  bared  its 
white  teeth,  and  with  swollen  body  seemed  to  burst  from 
laughter.  What  could  he  place  against  that  monster?  how 
was  he  to  cover  it? — he  knew  not.  He  understood  well  that 
at  the  bottom  of  this  all  lay  an  error.  On  the  road  of  life 
there  was  something  which  he  had  not  noted;  something 
which  he  had  not  recognized;  he  had  let  something  slip 
from  his  hands  which  still  were  so  rapacious;  he,  an  archi- 
tect, observing  with  mighty  diligence  the  law  of  equi- 
librium in  buildings  reared  by  him,  had  not  preserved  that 
equilibrium  in  his  own  house;  so  that  now  it  was  hard 
for  him  to  dwell  there,  and  he  wished  to  depart  from  it. 

When  he  goes  it  will  be  better  for  all.  Better  for  him  and 
for  them.  That  unhappy  woman  will  be  free,  and  may  be- 
come happy.  Maryan  will  return  from  the  end  of  the  earth 
to  receive  his  inheritance,  if  for  no  other  reason.  Irene  will 
reappear  in  society.  Irene,  what  a  strange  character! — so 
deeply  tender,  and  so  insolent.  How  savagely  she  hurled 
at  him  the  word  "  vileness!  "  But  she  was  right.  He  had 
committed  that  moment  a  vile  act,  just  as  in  general  he  was 
forced  to  commit  many  follies — but  "  useless  cruelty  "  will 
give  reward — Irene  will  learn  that  he  was  not  so — no, 
neither  she  nor  anyone  will  know  the  nature  of  his  act.  He 
raised  his  head,  in  which  he  felt  once  more  an  access  of 
pride.  No,  he  will  not  give  account  of  his  motives  to  any- 
one; nor  confess  on  his  knees,  like  a  penitent  sinner;  nor 
will  he  take  the  pose  of  a  hero.  Let  them  think  what  they 
like.    How  can  that  concern  him?    Nothing  concerns  him. 

289 


The  Argonauts 

By  chance  he  raised  his  eyes  and  saw,  hanging  in  the  air, 
the  face  of  a  maiden,  oval,  rosy,  and  bright-haired  which 
smiled  at  him  lovingly,  and  made  a  clear  motion,  inviting 
him.  Greuze's  picture  was  not  there,  still  the  vision  was 
present.    With  eyes  raised  toward  it  Darvid  smiled. 

"  Yes,  little  one,  quickly." 

He  took  a  pen  and  began  a  telegram  to  Irene.  He  penned 
the  address,  and  then  wrote:  "  Come  as  quickly  as  possible 
for  Puffie."  He  put  the  pen  down,  rang,  and  told  the  foot- 
man to  send  the  telegram  immediately.  Then,  passing  his 
hand  over  the  coat  of  the  sleeping  little  dog,  he  sat  long, 
sunk  in  thought.  The  world  appeared  before  him  with  all 
that  he  had  ever  seen,  owned,  or  used  in  it.  Countries,  cities, 
nations,  their  dwellings  and  languages,  banks,  exchanges, 
markets,  offices,  noise,  throngs,  struggles,  horse-races,  move- 
ments, uproar,  life.  This  vision  did  not  halt  there  before 
him,  but  sailed  away,  as  it  were,  on  a  giant  river,  ever 
farther  from  him;  farther,  till  it  was  on  the  opposite  shore 
of  a  great  space,  entirely  cut  off  and  entirely  indifferent. 
When  he  considered  that  he  might  spring  over  that  space 
and  mingle  again  in  all  those  things,  repulsion  came  on 
him,  and  also  fear;  he  shook  his  head  in  refusal,  and  said 
to  himself:   "I  do  not  want  them!" 

He  was  very  calm;  an  expression  of  happiness  began  to 
spread  over  his  features.  If  anyone  had  seized  him  then 
and  tried  to  hurl  him  to  the  side  of  that  broad  space  on 
which  this  life  is  situated,  he  would  have  resisted  with 
all  his  might,  and,  if  need  be,  would  have  begged  to  remain 
on  that  other  side. 

He  looked  up  and  smiled. 

"  Now,  my  little  one,  I  am  coming!  " 

He  opened  the  drawer. 

*     *     * 

390 


The  Argonauts 

Next  morning  news  flew  through  the  city  like  a  thunder- 
bolt, that  the  renowned  financial  operator  and  millionnaire, 
Aloysius  Darvid,  had,  during  the  night,  in  his  study,  taken 
his  own  life  with  a  revolver.  The  first  and  universal  thought 
was  of  bankruptcy.  But  no.  Soon  it  became  clear  and  most 
certain  that  his  ship,  in  full  canvas,  was  sailing  on  the  broad 
stream  of  success,  and  was  bearing  an  immense,  glittering 
golden  fleece.  The  Argonaut,  however,  no  man  knew  for 
what  reason — through  causes  hidden  altogether  from  every- 
one— ^had  sprung  from  the  deck  into  the  dark  and  mys- 
terious abyss. 


THE    END. 


291 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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